Crawling Back To You
by mudgielovesreba
Summary: Chapter 20-FINALLY. Starts at Core Focus 3x23. What if Brock didn't want to talk to BJ at all but just Reba? Things are confessed and lives are changed. Who cheats on who? REVIEW please. Chapter 20 UP NOW! DRAMA Easy read!
1. Chapter 1

**CRAWLING BACK TO YOU**

**Chapter 1-I Swallow My Pride**

**A/N: Hey y'all! First Reba fanfic, been out of writing for years, but here I am. Be nice in reviews please. **

**-Set in Season 3 Episode 23: Core Focus; This is right after Barbra Jean leaves the room, and Brock tells Reba he made a mistake…she turns to go and… **

"Reba, don't go."-Brock says, seeing her fingers touch the door knob.

"Brock, your wife is upstairs. We can't have this out right here, right now…"Reba points out clenching the knob on the door as if she let go, she knew she would run back to Brock.

"Fine, let's go outside." He simply states, rushing over to her, and grabbing the door knob as she let her hand quickly fall. They both walked out into the back yard, and sat on the swing near the gate leading out of the yard. They were in a comfortable silence; however, they knew they had come out here for a reason. Brock finally initiated the conversation.

"Reba, look, I meant what I said back there. I _did_ make a mistake when I left you and I-…" Reba cut him off, noticing the difference in words from what he said earlier.

"Hold it; did you just say you _did_ make a mistake? Earlier it was 'I might have made.' What the hell just happened?" She stood up from the swing, causing it to stop the gentle gliding that both were enjoying. Reba could tell she was going just a bit overboard here, and could feel her blood pressure rising, as she knew that this would be a long talk. But, she had to be sure of what he said. All of a sudden, Brock grabbed his ex-wife's tender, yet aged hand, gently pulling her back down to the swing they were sharing. Neither was sure who should let go first, so they didn't. And that was fine for the both of them.

"Yes, I did. Don't get upset. Let's just take this one step at a time." They both nodded and took deep breaths before Brock started again. "So, as I was saying, I regret leaving you four years ago. We didn't talk, and that was our problem. Well, I didn't talk. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not talking, not being there, marrying Barbra Je-…" Again, Reba cut off her ex-husband.

"Eh! Don't' you dare finish that last line! And how do you know what our problem was? When did you figure that out?" Now, Reba pulls her hand back. She let this out all in one breath, but somehow, not yelling. She's curious. It actually sounded like Brock had put some thought into this.

"I had time, Reba. I found myself constantly coming up with excuses to get away from Barbra Jean, and my golf game was already good, so I went down to the lake and realized where it all went wrong." Brock decides to pour his soul out to her. He knows he wants her back, so what's the harm?

Reba's breath caught in her throat. No one knew about their special spot. This was the lake where Reba and Brock shared their first date, and at least two of their three kids were conceived in the romantic little cave near the lake, but just far enough away where it was secluded from innocent, yet prying eyes of the public. "_The_ lake, our lake…with the cave?"

"Yes, and I went in there, but all I could think of was the great times we'd had in there. So, I sat on the dock, and just sorted through everything, day by day, every afternoon. It wasn't easy, but I'm ready now." Brock looks up, into Reba's gorgeous eyes, showing nothing but honesty, and love.

"Ready for what?" Reba questions, confused in the sudden change in conversation.

"Ready to earn back your trust; to try to communicate again, listen again… and love you again." He's still searching into her eyes for something, anything that would give him hope to love her again. As soon as he finished, however, her eyes turned to anger.

"Love again? Are you serious? Brock, you're married! You're supposed to love your wife! I'm the ex-wife; you left me, remember? You gave up that choice when you got her pregnant!" She says flinging her arm in the direction of Brock and Barbra Jean's house. Reba is now standing up again, looking down at Brock. She's not ready to let down her guard yet, when her husband is still married to that- wait, ex-husband.

This time, Brock stood up, matching her tense stance. "I am serious, Reba. I have never been more serious about anything in my life. I love you, YOU! I never stopped, I just-I- I can't love her, when I never did in the first place!" Brock finishes his outburst, while Reba is standing there fuming. If he never stopped loving her, then why did he just now want to come crawling back?

"I don't believe that for one darn second! You love her; you're just going through your mid-life crisis…again!" Reba keeps trying to come up with excuses, so she doesn't have to get hurt again, yet she's already hurting now.

"No, sweetheart, I'm not. I know I love you. I know I want to try again. And I know you…you're hurt, but deep inside you _want_to love me." Brock steps closer, much calmer now. He picks up her hand, and caresses it with his thumb. It takes a minute for Reba to respond, not being used to this side of Brock. But when she does respond, she jerks her hand back.

"Brock, if you really mean this….then you'll think it over. And after you've thought it over, you'll think it over _again_… long and hard. And if you still…_love me_, then you know where I am. But you can't forget about Barbra Jean, and Henry! If you- well, you'll hurt them too! You have to understand there are consequences either way. This cannot be done lightly." Reba finally tells him, in a way, that she's ready too, but not without bringing in the harsh reality that comes with getting what he truly wants.

"I know, Reba, but I can't keep living like this. I can't keep living a lie. Hell, I'm surprised I've lasted for four years! Eventually," He points his finger in the direction of their house "Barbra Jean is gonna find out that there's someone else. So, something's gotta give and you know it, Reba." He explains, still close to her. He closes the small gap, by easily touching his hand that was once holding hers to her cheek. She moves her head downwards and over toward his hand at the same time.

Brock saw a smile slowly appear onto her deep features. He too smiled; maybe for the first time in months, if he really let himself be honest. That smile was the only thing that mattered to him, for it symbolized Reba's potential happiness. Just then a voice came bellowing out the front door.

"Brock…are you out there?" Barbra Jean decided she had waited too long for her husband to make up his mind.

"And that'll be my cue…"Reba mutters loud enough for Brock to hear. Brock's hand stays on her cheek, not afraid to let it down, as they are in the back yard, away from Barbra Jean's suspicious eyes. Reba looks up, eyes looking tired but very sure of herself, as she moved her lips up to Brock's right cheek, just brushing it enough to send shivers down his spine.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Reba asks, now looking into his eyes. His hand moves up and down her arm to reassure her.

"Yes, of course." Brock made sure his voice was firm, because no matter what happened in there with Barbra Jean tonight, he would find a way back to Reba tomorrow, and he would certainly never forget this night.

"Good." Reba smiled again, this time shivers were radiating all over her body from his touch.

"Brock?" Barbra Jean's harsh voice brought them out of their special moment. She was still near the front door searching for her husband. Brock rolled his eyes, frustrated that he couldn't even get ten minutes alone with his love.

"Coming, Barbra Jean!" He yells, and regrettably removes his hand from Reba's arm while slowly backing away from her towards the door.

"Goodnight, Reba."

"Night, Brock. See you tomorrow." She, too was somewhat frustrated, but knew that BJ came with the territory. She just wasn't sure what it felt like to be the "other woman". Reba shuddered at the thought.

"See you then." He turned, and walked around the house to the front door, out of Reba's sight.

Reba sighed at the night's events. She tried to digest it all, but it just wasn't happening. It took all she had to put one foot in front of the other on the walk out of Brock's backyard (careful to avoid walking past a window where she could be seen by BJ) to her home.

It was times like this that she was glad Van and Cheyenne had their own home, she thought as she walked to the front door. Kyra was at her friend's house for the weekend, and Jake was camping for the weekend with his scouts group. She leaned back against the door and sighed. It was too quiet…but tonight she welcomed it, for she had much to think about.

She walked into her bedroom and put on some country music, and then proceeded to flop down on the bed. Rolling over on her stomach, she looked on her bedside table, noting her wedding picture. She sighed, again, and picked it up.

Reba looks intently at the picture and says, "Oh, Brock…what am I gonna do about you?"

**~End of Chapter 1~**

**Review PLEASE, but keep in mind that IF I get any reviews urging to update fast, I may or may not… I have to be inspired. Sorry, y'all. THANK YOU so much for reading, as this is my first Reba fanfic.**

**Love from TTown :)**

**"So my dear brothers and sisters, stand strong. Do not let ANYTHING change you. Always give yourselves FULLY to the work of our Lord because you know that your work in the Lord is never wasted."-1 Corinthians 15:58**


	2. Chapter 2 I'm Outta My Head

**Chapter 2-I'm Out of My Head**

**Ok, got inspired (see A/N at very end, after you've read) AND thank YOU for your 5 (yes, five!) reviews! So, REVIEW again! Thanks.**

Blue water. Clear blue water. That's all Reba could see. Until…

"Ahh! Dangit Brock! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Reba was enjoying a nice day on the lake when all of a sudden her fiancé came up from behind her and jumped on her back.

"Scaring you, apparently." Brock started laughing.

"Oh, really? Now what do you think your punishment should be for terrifying me?" Reba asked seductively.

"Umm…I think you should throw me in that cave over there and never let me leave from your sight." Brock thought carefully, giving her a good punishment. Not fair, or reasonable, but good.

"Okay…if that's what you really want." Reba said shrugging him off of her back.

"Oh no, you're not gonna get me that easily!" Brock said running towards the cave, seeing her angry and eager face behind him.

"Oh yes I am! You just wait, Brock Hart!" Reba yelled after him, and then started to run. Boy, when she fell for him, she really fell hard.

"Mrs. H!" Van startled her.

"Huh, what is it Van?" Reba shook her head, trying to clear memories of the past from her brain. It was a hard day at work, knowing that Brock would be coming over later that night. The day just kept dragging on and on, and Van wasn't making it any easier. This was why she hated working on Saturday's.

"I've been yelling at you from across the office for ten minutes! And when you didn't answer, I had to come over here. You had this dreamy look on your face for the third time today. Now, what's going on?" Van was tired of having to deal with his mother-in-law today, so maybe if they got whatever it was out in the open now, they could get on with their work.

"Nothing, I was just daydreaming. Now, what do you want Van?" There was no way she was telling him what she was thinking about.

"Never mind what I wanted. What's up? You don't just drift off like that at work, especially three times in one day. Well, unless Barbra Jean had you up late at night helping her reorganize her beanie babies again. That's not it, is it?" Van chuckles at the thought of Reba and BJ playing with beanie babies.

"No, Van, I was just thinking…" Reba stops. She couldn't tell him, could she?

"About?" He presses, thinking he's getting somewhere.

"Ya know what, that's not important now. But what is important is that list in your hand there. Let me see that!" Reba decides against her previous thoughts.

"Mrs. H, wait. Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure that we need to call those people before they choose someone else to sell their house…" Reba says with a little bit of impatience in her voice. Sometimes she wondered how Van was even in Real Estate. Oh yeah, she had hired him.

"No, about your problem. You know, what you were thinking about?"

"Van, look, there is _something_ going on, but for right now, let's just keep it at that. You'll find out when it's time." She admits, not wanting to give away too much. Hell, she didn't even know if she and Brock were actually going to make it.

"Okay, but I'm here if you wanna…" Van waits for her to finish.

"Talk, yeah I know. And thanks. Now, give me that list! You take the first half, I'll take the rest." Reba glances at the clock as she takes the list from Van. Only 5 more hours…

Reba walked in her house at 6pm that evening, and threw her purse in the chair. She tossed her work jacket on the coat rack and then flopped down on the couch grabbing the phone to order pizza in the process.

"Yes, that right, one large pizza with pepperoni. And cinnasticks, too!" Reba had been craving those since last week when they claimed they were out of her cinnasticks when she called to order her usual pizza. "Okay, thanks! Bye." She hung up the phone, and stared at it for a minute.

She hadn't heard a peep out of Barbra Jean all day, which was quite unusual since her and Brock were having problems. This caused her to wonder if Barbra Jean knew about her and Brock. Reba wondered what had happened after she left…all day. That's all she had been able to think about, other than her memories of them at the lake.

Sighing, she picked up the remote and turned on the television, settling in on her one of her favorite movies, _The Wedding Date_.

An hour later, the pizza had arrived, and within fifteen minutes, it was over halfway gone. Reba hadn't even noticed the time, or to think that Brock was on his way over. When she saw it was nearing seven thirty, she jumped up the stairs and brushed her teeth. She still had her work clothes on, grey pants with a cute blue button up top; however, she decided she didn't want to take the time to pick out another outfit this close to bed time, so she just kept them on.

Hearing the door bell ring, she nearly jumped out of her pasty white skin. Calming herself quickly, she bounded down the stairs, checking her fast-growing hair in the mirror on the way.

She flung the door open to find Brock on the other side in his usual attire. Nice light blue button-down shirt with casual jeans that hugged in all the right places. Yeah, Reba had checked that out last night, too.

"Hey, Reba. I hope I didn't interrupt you. It's just; we didn't really set a time or anything, so I came over after I had dinner." Brock was a little nervous. He shoved his hands in his pockets, not sure where they would go if he didn't. He wasn't about to screw this up, again.

"No, Brock that's fine. Come on in." Suddenly, Reba's nerves calmed. It was like when she saw him, everything fit into place. She didn't have to worry about who would say what, or who would sit where. She let God take care of that, because she simply couldn't control it. Actually, this was the best she had felt in months…well, besides last night, of course.

"Okay, sure." Brock follows her over to the couch. He senses her easiness, and that relaxes him a little. Sitting down, he nods his head towards the half empty pizza box.

"Pizza night again?" He asks, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I couldn't resist." She guiltily admits.

"Did they have your cinnasticks this time?" Brock thoughtfully inquires, remembering the incident from last week. She was throwing a fit in his kitchen the next day. He was looking for the box, but didn't see it.

"Yes, they did! To be honest, I think if they told me they didn't, they _knew_ they'd have to pay. But, I shouldn't have gotten them, cause I've already eaten them all. I really don't need all that bread. Goes straight down here." Reba mentioned, pointing to her hips.

"Reba, please, you don't have to worry about that! You're beautiful." Brock easily compliments. He was completely at ease now.

"Oh, well, thank you Brock." Reba was shocked he had said that. Sure, she'd lost a couple of pounds during the time they were separated, but recently she'd really been packing in the pizza. She had no idea Brock would voice his feelings like that, proving her opinion of herself wrong.

"You're welcome, Reba." He said slowly, debating his next move. Deciding against debating, he went for it. They were both facing each other on the couch. Brock moved his hand up to Reba's face, and slowly moved his lips to hers. He looked up at her before actually kissing her. Her face was surprised but her eyes were not. So, he continued. He enveloped her into a passionate kiss. Reba tilted her head to the side to grant him better access. This went on for a couple of minutes, both feeling the intense sparks. Neither one could take back anything now. And they knew that even if they tried, their efforts would be foolish, and pointless.

"Brock…" Reba mutters breathlessly. They had to stop. This was not right. He was still married. She was the other woman. Her best friend…what would she say?

"Uh?" Brock kept going, all along her chin, neck.

"Stop, please, we can't do this." She protested, and heard Brock grunt in the process. His hands were now on her shoulders, and her arms were wrapped around his back. She removed them, trying to calm herself.

Brock sighs, feeling rejected. "Reba, come on… We were just getting somewhere."

"I know, and that's the point. We can't do this, until _that_," She pointed to the ring on his fourth finger, "is off your finger. And, I'm pretty sure you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt Barbra Jean." Reba shrugs his hands off of her shoulders, kind of disappointed in Brock, thinking he didn't know her as well as she thought.

"I know. You're right. And that's the quality I admire most about you: you're always loyal to your friends. Even when it's very tempting." Brock rolls his eyes, proving Reba's suspicion of not knowing her as wrong.

"Well, thank you. And it wasn't just your fault. I definitely didn't stop you sooner."

"Hey, why don't we finish your favorite movie, since it's on TV?" He switched the subject fast, not wanting to think about what could've happened. What was the point, if it didn't?

Reba, touched that he knew her favorite movie, leaned back on the couch and faced the television. "Okay, that sounds great."

The two finished out the movie, laughing at the funny parts, and even flirting when the moments came. It was almost like they had forgotten the incident earlier, until the movie ended, and Reba suddenly became very aware of how quiet it was in the room, which in turn made her think of Barbra Jean (because she usually cause the lack of silence).

Then she remembered: she still had no idea what happened last night between him and BJ. She had to know. Their whole relationship depended on that conversation…well, most of it anyway.

"Brock…" She gently pressed.

"Humm?" Brock was almost on cloud nine, sitting on the couch, with Reba cuddled up under his left arm. They were so right together. They fit each other, and he just couldn't see it any other way.

"What-…What did you and Barbra Jean talk about last night after I left?" She exhales, still in the same position. Although this was their perfect moment together, she had to know.

"…..What?"

**End of Chapter 2**

**I know, I'm mean. Lol, but I did update within one day…so don't get used to it. I had a rough day (getting a ticket for parking in wrong spot while filming at work, then dinging a University car after that—but both are all good! Thank you LORD!) Then had a great night (with my college Sunday School group meeting for a movie-Courageous-with our awesome teacher ) , SO, I decided to update for y'all…ANYway, REVIEW please! It really brightens my spirits!**

"**But if serving the LORD seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve. But as for me and my household, we WILL serve the LORD." Joshua 24:15**


	3. Chapter 3 I Swallow My Pride

**Start of Chapter 3-I Swallow My Pride**

**Hey readers! Back again…Glad you all like the story so far! I'm so excited when I get the e-mails for the reviews! I love to write, and this just gives me some motivation to do it.**

**As for the conversation between Brock and BJ, be patient with that, cause I'm still trying to figure out my angle on that. I think I kinda know where I wanna go with that…so here it goes! OH, and special shout out to "Singitanyway13"! Thanks! Keep reviews coming!**

_Now, previously on Reba:_

"_What-…What did you and Barbra Jean talk about last night after I left?" She exhales, still in the same position. Although this was their perfect moment together, she had to know._

"…_..What?"_

"I asked what you and BJ talked about after I left last night. You never told me." Reba pressed, again.

"Oh, that's right. Well, we talked it out and we both decided that it would be for the best if we got a divorce…"Brock eyes Reba, extremely curious about her reaction. He knew he had to tell her if their relationship was going anywhere, but he didn't want to spoil their night.

"Oh." Reba was sort of speechless, but there were so many questions running through her head.

"Yeah." He breathed out, thinking that maybe that was it. But knowing Reba…

"What do you mean? How, why? What did you say, what did she say? Brock you can't just say that and not give me all the details!" ….she would not let the issue drop until she had every last detail. Brock could read her like a book. Reba, having said this, quickly moved back on the couch, to where she could see him better.

"Whoa, hold on Reba! Take it easy. Remember your blood pressure?" Brock doesn't want this to get out of hand.

"Yes, but you'll have to remember yours if you don't tell me what's going on right now!" Reba glares at Brock, who now has one leg folded up under him on the couch.

"Geez, okay fine. I'll tell you everything. So, after you left, I walked in the house, and Barbra Jean said…

"_Brock, where were you? I thought you said you only needed a minute with Reba?"_

"_Oh, well…I did. I just made sure she made it out okay. And then, I…moved the trash can around back. Look, Barbra Jean, we need to talk." Brock covered, not wanting her to know that he secretly discussed his future with his ex-wife in the backyard._

"_Oh, okay. What's going on, Brock?"_

"_Well, it's just-this isn't working. You know, you and me. Everything just seems so forced now, and I don't feel happy." He pauses for a moment, noting the small look of shock on her face, as it then turned to confusion. "Honey, I'm only telling you this, because I wanna be completely honest with you. I don't want to hurt you, but I think if you admitted it to yourself, you'd know that this isn't working either."_

"_Hm." Barbra Jean still has a sort of confused look on her face, as they're standing close to each other in the tiny area in front of the sink. Suddenly that confused look turns to anger and hurt, as she grabs the can of Lysol sitting by the microwave._

"_Who is she Brock? Tell me who that slut is! Is it the checkout girl at the market? That little tramp; I swear, I'll-.." BJ has enough, and whips the spray over to his face, and lets lose, covering him with the thick flower-scented deodorizer. _

"_Ah! Stop it, Barbra Jean, what are you talking about? It's getting in my eyes!" Brock covers his eyes, definitely not expecting the Lysol._

"_Well, good, you cheating man whore! She deserves you, that tramp!" She starts her second round of spraying._

"_Oh my gosh, BJ, would you just let me explain?" Brock finally gets the bright idea to run away from her to the kitchen table on the other side of the room. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, and wiping off his face with the other, he tries to think his way out of this one. He wasn't planning on telling her about Reba…yet. But, seeing and being a part of her recent outburst, he literally had no choice, for she probably wouldn't let him out of her sight until he fessed up._

"_Fine. But, whoever it is, they're dead." She relents, finishing with a grimacing tone. Brock winces, wishing just for a split second that it could be someone else, only for the sake of her's and Reba's friendship._

"_Barbra Jean, you might wanna come sit down." Brock breathes out, not ready. She wordlessly agrees, making her way to the chair sitting beside Brock at the kitchen table, as the Lysol finds its way on the table, just in case._

"_Okay, look, this is not easy, but it's not like I went out looking for someone. You have to know that, okay?" BJ nods her head, not sure who it could be at this point._

"_Okay. Barbra Jean…it's….Reba." He sighs, unsure of what her reaction would be. Brock grips the chair he's sitting in, and holds his breath in, looking at his wife. She holds a blank expression._

"_What?" Now, her mouth is kind of open a little, face back to the confused look it held earlier._

"_Barbra Jean,-..." Had she really not heard him? Instead, she stops him by putting her hand up to stop him from going any further._

"_No, never mind. For a second there, I thought you said that 'the other woman' was Reba. My Reba." She chuckles for a second and picks back up on her banter. "That's just funny, because I know the Reba that I know would never betray me like that." She stops laughing when she sees Brock's serious expression._

"_Oh my…Brock Hart, you're serious! I knew when I saw you two hug in her living room yesterday, that there was something going on!" BJ yells out, trying to take it all in._

"_I'm sorry, BJ, I don't mean to- wait a minute, how did you see us hugging? Did you follow me?"_

"_Yes, I did! And now I know why I followed you; because you're a cheater! I mean, I should've seen this coming. You did cheat on Reba with me! I just didn't think that the other woman would become the other woman! Come on, Brock, did it really have to be her!" Barbra Jean is now standing up in front of the chair, breathing heavily, obviously angry at the choice of her husband's mistress._

"_Barbra Jean, we haven't even done anything, yet! That hug you walked in on was innocent. I just happened to realize that it was time to be honest with myself and everyone for that matter. And yes, it did have to be her, because to tell you the truth, I don't really think…I stopped loving her." That last part came out as a whisper, barely above a mumble; however, BJ did hear him and gave kind of a shocked expression as she pulled her head back a little._

"_Fine…fine then; if you still love her…then go be with her, cause you're not sleepin' here!" She finally has enough and starts pulling him up out of his chair, and then pushes him towards the door._

"_Wait, BJ, don't you even want to talk about it?" She stops pushing him for a second, and looks him in the eyes. _

"_Why would I, Brock? Don't you already know who you want?" She says, feeling dejected. _

_He starts to object, but sees her stern look, and decides not to. "Can I at least pack a bag?" She nods and lets him pass her up the stairs. As he came down less than five minutes later, she was still standing by the door._

"_I'll have my lawyer contact yours with the divorce papers." She states, head held high. He just nods, and walks out the open door…_

"But wait…"Reba waited til the story was finished, and then decided to interject. "If you left your house last night, and you didn't come here, where did you go?" Reba is curious now.

"Oh, I slept on the couch in the garage, and got up before you left." He grins, knowing he got away with it, yet again.

"Figures." A moment of silence follows. "So, Brock…are you okay with all of this? I mean, do you have any…regrets?" She had to know this, also.

"I'm still a little shocked from BJ's reaction, but one thing is for sure…I have _no_ regrets." He tells her as he leans in for a small kiss. She returns it, but breaks it off, putting a finger on his chest.

"Good…because that kiss, would have certainly been uncalled for if ya did!" They both laugh and continue on with their night.

**End of Chapter 3**

**SOOO, what'd ya think? You better like it, because I spent a lotta time on it, AND I just got back from Doc-in-a-box where I got 2 shots! Sorry about the ending…kind of didn't know where to go with that part..but it will get better!**

**R-E-V-I-E-W, PLEASE : )**

**Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.-Proverbs 31:30**


	4. Chapter 4 I Thought I Was Stronger

**Chapter 4-I Thought I Was Stronger**

**Bet ya thought I forgot about the story, right? I didn't forget…I've just been super busy with college and work. Again, stay with me. Having sort of a "writer's block", I think. Here we go…**

_**Previously…**_

"_So, Brock…are you okay with all of this? I mean, do you have any…regrets?" She had to know this, also._

"_I'm still a little shocked from BJ's reaction, but one thing is for sure…I have no regrets." He tells her as he leans in for a small kiss. She returns it, but breaks it off, putting a finger on his chest._

"_Good…because that kiss, would have certainly been uncalled for if ya did!" They both laugh and continue on with their night._

The next day, Sunday, Reba was up in her room getting ready for church. She was just adding the finishing touches to her outfit of a low-cut v-neck blouse with a white camisole underneath, and a brown and green skirt that hit just about the knees, when she heard a loud thud downstairs. She jumped, remembering that Brock had stayed on the couch last night, on account of his impending divorce from Barbara Jean. Running downstairs, in heels mind you, she made it just in time to see Brock limping around the couch, holding his toe in his hand.

"Brock, honey, don't hurt my furniture!" Reba sarcastically said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to poke fun at Brock.

"I'll have you know your furniture is out to get me! And by the way, I'm bleeding." Brock shrugs off, like it's no big deal. He's still holding his foot, but as he glances up at her, he can hardly breathe…and only half because of the shooting pain through his toe.

"What? Get up here, that looks painful; plus, I can't have you messin' up my carpet too." Reba goes over to him and leads him by the arm upstairs to her bathroom where the band-aids were. Brock took in her heavenly perfume, a scent he hadn't smelled in at least four years…which meant that this specific perfume was _his_ perfume. No, not for Brock, but the one Reba _knew_ Brock liked to smell on her. He smiled, despite the ever-present pain.

"Ok, sit there." Reba pointed to the edge of her bath tub, as she fiddled around in the cabinet for band aids and antiseptic.

"Really, Reba, I'm fine. I can just put the band aid on myself." Brock tries, feeling like a little kid. He actually missed being cared for by her.

"Nonsense. Everybody knows when you stub a toe the last thing on your mind is 'I'm fine'." Reba points out, sitting beside him on the tub. She pours some peroxide on his bleeding wound, and then goes to peel back the band aid.

"Thank you, Reba." He says, slowly, not wanting this moment to end. He can feel her fingers, now more slowly, putting the material on his sore toe. She finishes, and looks up to match Brock's intent gaze.

"You're welcome." She cannot take her eyes away from his. "There, all better."

"Reba…" Brock breathes out, but has no idea what he wanted to say, so he just leans over and captures her lips in a sweet kiss. She responds, but it was nothing near as heated as their kiss last night on the couch. Reba knows this can't go on like last night, so she stops it.

"Brock, we can't." She says, with her eyes still closed.

"I know." He sighs. He looks down at her clothes and wonders where she was going. "Were you headed somewhere?"

"Oh, yeah, I was going to church. Did you wanna come?" Reba remembers, trying to snap out of her daze.

"I would love to go with you, honey, but I don't have any of my good clothes over here." Brock says, disappointed.

"Oh, that's right. You don't do you?" She felt kind of bad for bringing it up, now that she made him even more aware of the situation.

"No, but it's okay, really. You go on, and I'll stay here and make us some lunch." Brock suggests, getting up off of the tub and heading for the door.

"Sure, that sounds great. But, hey, just not pizza, okay? Too heavy." She could practically feel the weight adding on from all that bread she ate last night.

Brock chuckled, jogging down the stairs with Reba behind him. "Okay, deal. Have a great time."

"See you later." She closes the door, and sighs. While she was finally letting herself be happy with Brock, she knew that there was someone that she had hurt. Shaking her head, she walked down the driveway to her car, and sank into the front seat. Suddenly, an idea popped into her head: prayer. Why hadn't that thought occurred to her until now? In fact, she _was_ headed to church.

"Lord, I know what I've done has hurt Barbara Jean. I pray that you forgive me for my actions, and help me and Barbra Jean to sort all this mess out, sooner or later. I thank You for all of your many blessings on this family, Lord. Amen." Reba finished her prayer, and sped to church, as she was running a little late. Finally finding a space, she proceeded to slip in quietly through the church doors.

The choir was already singing, so she just quietly eased into the fourth row from the back and enjoyed the rest of the service.

As the preacher closed with words regarding the evening service that night, she picked up her bible and headed towards the end of the aisle. However, the congregation from the front had the same idea and beat her to the aisle, so she was stuck waiting for people to filter out. She spoke to a few friends, and traded greetings with others. One person that she was not expecting to see, however, was next in the long procession of church-goers.

"Barbara Jean." Reba merely stated. What was there to say? And in front of all these people…

"Reba." Apparently Barbara Jean didn't want to start anything here, either. Instead, she stopped in her tracks to let her best friend of into the aisle, finally. Reba muttered a thanks, and continued in front of her.

As they stepped out in front of the church, Reba saw BJ turn to go to the left. In a way, she did not want to do what she was about to do, but she knew it had to be done.

"Barbara Jean! Wait!" Reba yells, noting that the blonde turned her head and stopped walking towards her car.

"Yes?" It was a question. As if she had no clue of why her best friend would be calling her out after what all had happened.

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

…

**End of Chapter 4**

**Yeah, CLIFF HANGER! Yes, I did just go there! Haha! This is a little shorter than I thought, so I guess it's "filler". So, Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! I updated on the loooongg car ride to Panama City, Florida where my Grandparents reside. SO give ME REVIEWS PLEASE! I will try to update again if I have time, over the break. THANK YOU all for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5  Time Will Heal

**Chapter 5-Time Can Heal**

**Here's an update! I thought the Chapter Title went GREAT with the material. Sorry it's taken soo long, but I had a ton of hours to put in at work, and finals! Here ye go! MERRY CHRISTMAS!**

_**Previously:**_

"_Barbara Jean! Wait!" Reba yells, noting that the blonde turned her head and stopped walking towards her car._

"_Yes?" It was a question. As if she had no clue of why her best friend would be calling her out after what all had happened._

"_We need to talk."_

"_About what?" _

"Oh, I don't know, about the weather? Barbara Jean, about you, me, and Brock!" Reba says, shocked that her best friend was _that_ clueless. "What the hell did you think we were gonna talk about?" Reba mutters the curse word, as they were not fifty yards from the church.

"Reba, you know it is Sunday."

"Barbara Jean…" She was growing impatient.

"Well, I'm just sayin' if you insist on using filthy language, at least use it away from the church." Barbara Jean flings her hands in the general direction of the church.

"Fine, let's go talk in the car." Reba starts walking to BJ's car, not giving her a chance to object. She stood waiting for Barbara Jean to unlock the car door, and once she did, they both settled into their seats, as Reba turned her head to her best friend.

"Barbara Jean, I know you must be angry at me and Brock, but you have to know, neither one of us wanted to hurt you or Henry, nor did we go looking for this. It just popped back up. You have to believe me." Reba starts pleading, unsure of why she was doing so to the other woman. But now, she was the other woman, and technically, what BJ had done to her, was irrelevant now. It was in the past.

"Oh, Reba, I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I just don't understand why Brock had to cheat on me with you. I mean, that's like a slap in the face. It's like he's saying 'Hey, I divorced her for you but I never really loved you, so I'm just gonna go back with the one I've never stopped loving.'" She stopped, noting Reba's mixed emotions. "Reba, I thought we could save our marriage, once he got off those damn happy pills, but since you came along and reassured him that it was _okay_, it was like he didn't need my advice. I knew it was over from the minute I saw you two hugging from the kitchen."

"You were following me? Barbara Jean, that's-…"

"Sick, intrusive, and rude, I know. But I had to find out what was going on. If you could've at least seen me and Brock together to confront him about later, wouldn't you have done the same thing?" Barbara Jean rattles off.

"Well, yes, but this is totally different! Brock and I technically weren't cheating! It was just one little hug! There was nothing more to it!" Reba could feel her blood pressure rising. She knew this wasn't going to be easy.

"Maybe not to you, _then_! But, now, you're all cozy with _my_ husband!"

"Barbara Jean, I told you, we haven't slept together! We just kissed! I wouldn't do that to you…unlike what you did…" Yeah, she did just go there.

"Woah, hold on there, cowgirl! You kissed? I was just _saying_ you two did something, hoping you didn't! I can't believe you, Reba! I trusted you, and by the way, I didn't know you as a friend back then. That's why I didn't think you'd take this as personal as I am." Barbara Jean is now fully facing Reba in her seat, her anger level through the ceiling.

"I thought you knew…I-I'm sorry." Reba was tired. She breathed out, not aware of the toll that this was taking on her heart. Why would BJ know that she and Brock kissed? She hadn't seen either one of them since the night BJ and Brock had the fight. Where was her head today?

A few moments of silence passed between the two, as Reba took note of the warm sun shining down on her face. Barbara Jean's voice brought her out of the sanctuary.

"Listen, Reba, right now, I don't know what to make out of all this. I want to forgive you…and maybe Brock…but I'm not there yet." Her anger had eased, somewhat, as she saw no point in trying to sort it out today.

"That's…understandable." She reasoned with Barbara Jean. Reba knew she couldn't forgive BJ right away, and she hardly knew her back then.

"I-just give me time, okay? This isn't-isn't easy for me." Tears were spilling over in her voice, and dared to fall, but did not show just yet.

Reba really didn't know what else to say. There really wasn't anything left _to_ say.

"Okay. But Barbara Jean, just remember this: Brock and I are _truly_ sorry." She saw Barbara Jean nod, as she patted her friend's knee, and slowly exited the car. Reba took a deep breath and never looked back on the short walk to her own vehicle.

"Brock?" Reba yelled out.

"Oh, hey Reba. I was getting a little worried. Church let out half an hour ago." Brock comes out of the kitchen, wearing a small apron over his clothes. He gives Reba a quick kiss on the lips.

"Mmm…" She responds to the subtle, yet sincere kiss, which surprises Brock. He thought his actions would send her into another round of how they shouldn't hurt Barbara Jean. "Sorry. I had a talk with Barbara Jean." She sets her purse and bible down easily on the coffee table while falling into Brock, who was now seated comfortably on the couch.

"Oh, wow. What happened?" Reba could feel Brock's strong hand making smooth circles on her arm. This calmed her more than she knew.

"Well, long story short, it started out good, then I told her that you and me kissed, we both got too angry, and she finally said she wanted to forgive us, but it'd take time." Sighs exited both their mouths, Brock's quicker to leave than her's.

"Wow. This is so crazy. It's been a hectic few days." He could feel Reba nod against his shoulder. He looked down at the beautiful woman he once called his wife, and noticed her eyes were fluttering closed. Her high blood pressure problem just hit him.

"Honey? Are you okay?"

"Mmhumm. Just give me a minute, and we'll go eat the lunch you cooked." She was determined to make the most out of the time she had with Brock, but her heavy eyes and foggy brain were telling her another story.

"No, no, let's get you up to bed. There'll be plenty of time for lunch after you've rested." He turns around on the couch and puts one arm under her legs, and the other under her back.

"Mmmkay, whatever you say Brockie." She patted his chest, as he grinned while struggling to open the door to her room. He loved when she was in and out of sleep, because that's when she was at her most vulnerable state. He laid her gently on the bed and pulled the covers up for her, while tucking back a few strands of her budding hair.

"I love you, Reba."

"Love you more." It came out as a whisper, and Brock knew she was going out, for she would never play the 'more and most' game. He chuckled and closed the door to her room. As he neared the stairs, he passed by Jake's room. Something caught his eye, and decided to check it out.

Nearing his sons dresser, he took the object out of the halfway open drawer and studied it, while smirking. It was a picture of Brock and Reba. Reba had her hand on Brock's knee, doubled over in laughter, as he was looking on at her laughing also. Her hair was all jacked up to Jesus, and his was also pretty thick. They both looked so happy, like nothing in their future could bring them down. He sighed, and placed the picture halfway in the drawer like he found it. Looking around, he noticed how much of a mess his son's room really was. He decided he'd help Jake, and Reba, and do some laundry. Picking up Jake's scattered clothes, he wondered why the young boy couldn't just throw them in the hamper and take it to the laundry room. Forty-five minutes later, after cleaning the rest of his room, Brock heard voices downstairs. It was pretty loud, so he quickened his pace to the stairs.

"Cheyenne, I told you, if I don't eat at least six meals a day, I can't keep this hunk-a-man goin!'" Van walks in behind his wife, and gestures to himself, trying to make his point.

"Well, Van, I can't keep stopping at McDonalds every thirty minutes…they already think I have an eating problem!" She retorts. Brock shakes his head, descending the stairs. Van throws his whole body back in fake laughter.

"Yes, because you're the only one who matters in this marriage!" Brock decided it was time to step in, or not only would they wake up Reba, but the whole neighborhood would hear them bickering.

"Van, Cheyenne! Stop it…your mother's asleep upstairs!" Brock hissed.

"Asleep? Dad, it's 12:30 in the afternoon. Why is she asleep?" Cheyenne questioned, sitting on the arm of the chair next to her husband who was in the chair.

"Yeah and why are you wearing an apron?" Van follows up.

"Look guys, we've had a busy weekend and I don't want to get too deep, because I don't know if Reba wants anyone to know."

"What's going on, Mr. H?"

"Yeah, Dad, come on, spill."

Brock holds his hands back, sort of giving in. "All I'm gonna say is: Barbara Jean and I are getting a divorce, your mother knows, and is letting me stay here. Now, whatever conclusions you draw from that, just remember, I did not tell you any of them." Brock starts to walk into the kitchen, but is stopped by their objections.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa… Dad, what?" Brock frantically waves his arms down. "Sorry," Cheyenne starts half-whispering, "What the hell are you talking about? Why are you and BJ getting a divorce? Are you not happy? Is it-is it someone else? Dad, tell me you are not cheating, _again_!" Her voice starts to rise, but she remembers to keep it under control. She can feel her husband's hands running the length of her arms.

"It's not like that, sweetheart. I-…" Brock couldn't think of how to explain it.

"You what Dad? You found some cheap trash in a bar one night? I can't believe you. I thought you would've learned your lesson once by losing Mom that way!"

"Believe me I did." He mumbled, shaking his head. Brock looked back up at his eldest daughter and son-in-law, and saw looks of betrayal and confusion. "I learned my lesson. At least I think I did." He noticed something move at the top of the stairs.

"Reba…what are you doing up?"

**End of Chapter 5**

**That was an awkward place to end, but I had to stop somewhere. Sorry it's been so long since an update, again. BUT, enjoy this chapter and REVIEW! Take a break from the fam, and tell me what you think! Merry Christmas again : )**

"_**The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told." –Luke 2:20**_


	6. Chapter 6 Scars Will Hide Way You Feel

**Chapter 6-The Scars Only Hide The Way You Feel**

**Ok, back again! I'm really getting into it, and I hope you can tell. However, I'm not getting the reviews, in quantity, so this is just a shorter chapter, but eventful. Will post more when MORE people REVIEW! Please and thanks! Also, thanks to ALL of my consistent reviewers as y'all are a BIG help to my writing. NOW, on with the story of our favorite Redhead and Blonde…...**

"_You what Dad? You found some cheap trash in a bar one night? I can't believe you. I thought you would've learned your lesson once by losing Mom that way!"_

"_Believe me I did." He mumbled, shaking his head. Brock looked back up at his eldest daughter and son-in-law, and saw looks of betrayal and confusion. "I learned my lesson. At least I think I did." He noticed something move at the top of the stairs._

"_Reba…what are you doing up?"_

"Never mind that. Cheyenne, how dare you come into _my _house and speak to your father like that. He's been through enough!" Reba walks over to the group who is now standing in front of the couch. Now both couples are facing each other. She points her finger in her eldest child's face, noting the look on Van's terrified face.

"Mom, come on! He has repeatedly hurt you, and now Barbara Jean. How many times are you gonna let him do this? And why are you letting him stay here?" Cheyenne puts her arms up in a question. Van pulls her back, feeling that this will get heated, but she shrugs him off.

Brock does the same to Reba, however, she allows him to keep his hands on her arms. This did not go unnoticed by her daughter, as she raised her eyebrows.

Her father was always protective of her mother, but usually Barbara Jean was around, and he did not show his protectiveness. Cheyenne thought it was just because her mother was a woman, and Brock usually showed his defending nature towards any woman in their family.

"That, young lady, is none of your business! And if it were, it would be because your father and I are good friends, and he really-…cares… for me. It's been four years since the divorce, and we've both forgiven each other. It's all in the past." She calmed down a little, for one, to lower her ever-rising blood pressure, and also, to watch how she phrased her own words.

"Oh, really? That's ridiculous! So you're telling me that a man who's known you for over twenty-five years and then just takes your heart out and stomps all over it by flaunting his mistress/new wife over here all the time is someone who "cares" about you? Next thing you're gonna tell me is that you're the one Dad's cheating on with BJ! Now that would be the icing on the freaking cake!" Cheyenne mouthed off, scoffing at the thought.

She turns her head back to Van who started his laughter before she did. When they didn't hear any laughter from the other two, they stopped, and immediately turned their heads.

"What, the, hell…" Those were the only words Cheyenne uttered.

"Cheyenne, honey, your mother and I are…" Brock looked to Reba for confirmation to explain.

"Well, we're…" Reba couldn't exactly say it.

"We're in a relationship. We both still love each other, and we're both in it for the long haul this time." Brock's firm hands were still on Reba's feeble arms. Both were quiet, waiting for the outburst from the two, mainly from their daughter.

"You-You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes…we thought that.-..." Brock got cut off.

"So, I was right. You hurt BJ, _and_ Henry, just like you hurt us four years ago. You know, you would think you would know better, because the same thing is just gonna happen all over again." Cheyenne sat down in the chair, Van still frozen in his spot by the couch.

"No, it's not, Cheyenne. We've already talked about this! Your father has suffered enough by everything he's been through and I- ." Reba was cut off by Brock.

"No, you were the one who suffered, Reba. And I regret that every single day. Now, I'm just hoping we can move forward and put the past where it belongs: in the past." He directed the last part toward his daughter.

"We just want to get on with our life, honey. Can't you see that?" Reba pleads with her eldest, while still against Brock's chest.

"You two obviously _can't see_ what this is doing to everyone else! Have ya even thought about what _this_," She motioned between the two, partially ignoring her mother's question "could do to your youngest son, Dad? Do you even know what it did to Jake? Mom was practically his father! Oh, and speaking of Mom…" She now jumps off of the couch, into her mother's face, "who became the _other _woman _to _the _other_ woman! How screwed up is that mom? I mean, did you just jump into bed with Dad before they even _talked_ about divorce, and then cause the divorce, like BJ did with you? Next thing, you'll be pregnant, so you can ruin everyone's lives! I can't believe you!" Cheyenne is screaming at this point.

Reba's face is one of shock. She would've expected this reaction from Kyra, but not from her sweet Cheyenne. Tears threatened to fall from the strong-willed, stubborn face. Her hand moved to cover her lower face to reveal anymore shock.

"Cheyenne, that's enough! C'mere!" Van finally jumps in front of Cheyenne, knowing that his mother-in-law was going to lose it, but to his surprise, before turning back to his wife, he saw her just standing there, relying on support from her former husband, and _not_ saying anything. He pushes Cheyenne back, and talks to her for a minute. Meanwhile, Brock steps in front of his love, making sure she's still breathing.

"Reba, honey…talk to me." He's holding her shoulders like her life depends on it, looking deep into those ocean blue eyes that held years of love. Of all the times Brock had really shared love through her eyes, he hadn't seen them this dull since their divorce became final.

"I-can't-breathe, Brock. I didn't mean to hurt her. I-just love you." Words that should be in sentences came out only as bits and pieces. Tears that once threatened to fall now held their promise and slowly slid down her aging face. It hurt Brock deeply to see her crying, and it hurt even worse that their own daughter's harsh accusations did this to her.

"Oh honey, come here." Brock pulls her into a healing embrace. Kissing the top of her head, he breathed out his next words, "Baby, it's okay. I love you and I know that you and I both did not intend to hurt anyone. Okay?" He still hears her crying, but a grunt follows. "Look at it this way: if we just went on with our lives, not saying anything, not being truly honest, we'd be hurting them worse. It'll be okay, trust me." This time the crying subsides and Reba looks up at him, eyes more full of love.

"I do, Brock…believe me, I've seen how you've changed, and…how you've learned your lesson." She lets him know she heard the conversation before she had let herself become known, and adds a smirk, even in this situation. Brock smirks back at her, but Van knocks them out of their moment.

"Mr. H…Mrs. H, we'd like to apologize for our behavior, right Cheyenne?" Van says through clinched teeth.

Cheyenne is visibly still fuming. She turns her head to the right, and then looks up, as if she's trying hard not to burst out into a fit, again. "Maybe…I was a little…" A short pause follows. "Oh, forget it, I can't do this! I'm not going to apologize for everything I said, because deep down you know it's true." Staring deep into her mother's eye, who buries her head back into Brock's shoulder. Satisfied, the younger Hart woman moves to stare her father down and to her surprise, Brock backs her down.

"Fine. Van, let's go." She stormed off in a furry, leaving Van to clean up the aura of feelings left in the vast room. Van sighed, exasperated with his wife. He was neutral on his in-laws getting back together; however, he did seem to think Reba made a better fit for Brock than did Barbara Jean.

"Look, she'll calm down. I'll talk to her, and-and get her to come over and _really_ apologize. You two can't be persecuted for living your own lives." Van becomes rational for once. Reba pulls out of Brock's shoulder, and stands shocked, again, but this time lets out a smile.

"Thanks, Van. I really appreciate it." Reba leans over and gives her son a kiss on the cheek, while touching his arm gently.

"Sure, Mrs. H." He waves to Brock as he reaches the door.

**End of Chapter 6**

**You may be thinking that it's an awkward place to end, but I have more written…will upload when you are so kind to review. Thanks for Reading, Happy New Year, and REVIEW please.**

**"Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." ―Philippians 3:13-14**


	7. Chapter 7 Trying Not To Love You

**Chapter 7-Trying Not To Love You, Only Goes So Far**

**Hey everyone! I'm back…and Thanks to my 3 (yes, out of 72 hit on Sunday, ONLY 3 reviews—what's up guys?) reviewers! **

**Do me one favor while you read this: Go to YouTube, and type in "Trying Not To Love You by Nickelback". That's what this chapter is based on. Love the song as it totally fits this whole story, also!**

**So, here's the big one! Enjoy.**

_You call to me, and I fall at your feet  
>How could anyone ask for more?<em>

_Previously on Reba:_

"_Thanks, Van. I really appreciate it." Reba leans over and gives her son a kiss on the cheek, while touching his arm gently._

"_Sure, Mrs. H." He waves to Brock as he reaches the door._

When Reba hears it close, she turns to her ex-husband.

"Well, that was…"

"Not good." Brock let's out the obvious, collapsing next to Reba on the couch.

"And I thought Barbara Jean would be our problem! Do you really think she'll come around?" Reba becomes doubtful.

"Of course she will, honey. It'll just take some time. You have to keep in mind that this came out of left field for them." Brock rubs her upper arm.

"I guess…" A moment of comfortable silence follows.

"Are you ready to eat lunch?" Brock remembers the meal he prepared for them before her nap and their daughter's outburst.

"Yes, I'm starving!" She recalls that she hasn't eaten since last night's pizza. "What'd you fix?"

"Grilled cheese sandwich, _Reba style_, and tomato soup." He grins when he sees her reaction upon hearing that he even attempted to make her famous grilled cheese.

"Wow! Really, you stealin' _my _sandwich?" She rears back as they enter the kitchen.

"Why, you got a problem with that? Besides, it's not like I could make them as good as you can."

"Not at all…merely an observation. But thank you for the compliment."

"Anytime…So, shall we?" Brock gestures, pulling out her chair, and immediately noticing her surprised, yet sweet smile at his subtle motion.

"Thank you." Watching him put the cuisine on the table, she noticed how much of a changed man he was. Reba must've had a glowing look on her face, because Brock asked what she was looking at.

"Oh, nothing." She replied. "Let's eat."

Thirty minutes later, they made their way to the couch, stomachs full, and both laughing.

"So, how'd I do, master?" Brock Hart descends onto the soft cushion, as she falls into him, looking up with a sly smile slowly making its way to her features.

"Very well, young grasshopper. But…the student can never surpass the master." Brock chuckles and holds her close.

"This is nice." He simply states.

"Yeah…it is." She breathes out, hoping this feeling of unexpected bliss will continue to progress. Reba wonders back to the good times. Before a mistress, teenage pregnancy, and a grandchild.

"What are you thinking about, huh?" He sees a grin on her face, and wonders where her pretty mind has traveled to.

"Oh, just life before the kids grew up so fast."

Brock chuckles, knowing exactly what she was feeling. "Yeah, those were good times, weren't they?"

"They were amazing." She looks at him, sporting a sweet grin. That grin turns mischievous when a specific memory hits her brain. "Do you remember our fifth anniversary?"

"Oh, do I? We left Cheyenne with your parents and rented a condo on the coast of Florida for a week."

"I don't think we ever left the room, do you?"

"The room? Hell, I was gonna say the hot tub!" Brock laughs, thinking back to the wonderful, romantic week they had.

"Yeah, you're right. The very hot tub that Kyra was conceived in." They both looked to one another with their sly smiles and seductive glances. Just as they were nearing each other's lips for a forbidden, yet heated lip-lock, a screeching set of tires jolted them out of there intense memories.

"What the hell was that?" Brock questions, jumping from her embrace and over to the door, leaving a frustrated Reba behind on the couch, grimacing.

"I don't know, but whoever it was, I'm gonna kill them." Her teeth remain gritted, as she nears the now open front door.

"Is that-what-why are my clothes all over your front yard?" He sputters out, flinging one arm in the direction of the scattered mess and one arm pushing against the frame of the door. Reba comes rushing up behind him, as she caught the apron he threw off.

"What are you talking about? Who would do-.." She trails off, trying to think of anyone who could do this. Cheyenne was mad when she left over half an hour ago, but she didn't have a key to her father's house.

"I don't know, but I'm not leaving them out there so the whole damn neighborhood can see!" Brock runs out into the bright sun, before any neighbors caught sight of his smiley face boxers on the freshly cut lawn. Meanwhile, Reba sighs as she searches the yard for anything else, like a person or the car that sped away. Turning to her left, she sees a piece of paper hanging from the mailbox. Curious, the red head gently pulls the paper that was taped to the box, noting the handwriting.

It was from Barbara Jean. Gasping, her hand unconsciously moves to her mouth in complete shock, as she read the unbelievable words.

"_Dear Brock,_

_I'm sure your girlfriend has now informed you that we had a little chat this morning after church. She probably told you that I seemed content with the recent arrangement, and I was until I remembered that she told me that you two kissed while we're still married? _

_Well, have at it, Brock. I'm done. I saw my lawyer yesterday, signed the papers, and he is mailing them to you tomorrow. Henry and I will be taking a long vacation in Fisheye Bottom, so you two can go for it. _

_-Barbara Jean_

_P.S.-Hope you don't mind that I cleaned out your closet. Figured it would be easier to move in with her."_

"I think I got it all, but who-." He stops, seeing Reba's had over her mouth, and a tear slowly falling down her face. "Honey, what hap-." She cuts him off.

"Read. This." Reba is sick to her stomach, as it is finally hitting her that she's breaking apart a marriage. She falls into in the glider on the porch, while Brock reads the letter from his soon-to-be ex-wife. Reba can't even watch his reaction, say nothing of look him in the eye.

"Well, fine. If she wants it this way, then _she_ can have it!" Brock crumpled up the papers into his hand, and put his hands on his hips.

"Can you believe this, Reba?" Brock is so angry he's fuming. But once he sees his angel shedding tears, he pushes his anger to the back burner. "Oh…Honey, it's okay." He forgot that she was even there for a second. Kneeling down beside her, he wipes her tears away.

She shakes her head, refusing to be the reason their marriage broke up. "No, Brock, it's," She looks away, unwilling to let him in even further, when there are two people on their way to Fisheye Bottom hurting and confused, "it's not, okay."

"Reba, what's wrong? Not five minutes ago, we were on the couch going through old memories."

"What's wrong?" She asks, incredulously, "Brock, your wife just threw your entire wardrobe on my lawn, left that heinous note, then sped away with your son! You can't seriously think that wouldn't affect me do you?" Her whole body is now animated, compared to being mute mere seconds ago.

"Of course that affects you, but we can't do anything about it." He holds her arms down, before they can go flying back up again. She violently shakes her head. "Sweetheart, look at me," Reba turns to look at Brock. Tears had stained her face in the short amount of time that Brock had read the note.

"This is not your fault. If it's anyone's, it's all mine, okay? But we can't change the way we feel about each other, just because BJ took off and Cheyenne's mad." Reba took the opportunity to interject.

"Brock, we can't do this."

"What are you-." He was stunned.

"It doesn't matter how we feel about each other. Cheyenne was right, Brock. We're not just hurting Barbara Jean, we're hurting Henry. And our whole family. This has to stop." A definite tone is discovered by Brock, but he's not accepting it.

"No it doesn't. Come on, Reba, you trust me don't you? We can do this. I _love_ you! I'm committed more than ever, sweetheart." He felt he was losing her, so he did the only thing he knew how: he held onto her hand for dear life.

"We _can't_ do this Brock! Haven't you listened to a damn thing I've said?" She takes a deep breath, looking upward, in a similar manner of how her daughter did not even an hour ago. "Brock, I love you. I truly do. But I cannot be the reason that you lose your son…or your wife." Salty tears sting at her eyes, once again.

"But why now? You were just fine at lunch."

"Don't you see? Like I said before, your son is gone! And it's all because of me!" Reba gets up suddenly, only to feel her arm tugged in the direction she came from.

"Don't." One word says it all. This time, tears are in his eyes, trying not to fall. "Don't do this, Reba. We can work this out, okay? I just-I can't lose you…not again."

"Let go, Brock." She looks him in the eye with one simple plead. "Please. It hurts, okay." Reba was not referring to his tight grip on her wrist. "This is too much, I'm sorry." Reba breaks free of his superglue grip, and runs into the open door, slamming it, careful to lock it, on her way up to her room.

Brock comes to life and bangs on the door for all he's got in him; however it comes to no avail.

"No…please, no." Brock slowly falls to the ground against the door.

As Brock suffers at the front door, a woman of forty five is falling apart in her bedroom, unsure if she made the right decision. Instead of debating this thought, for now, she grabs the bottle of whiskey carefully hidden under her mattress and does what she knows she will regret later. Drinking a long swig from the full bottle.

If Brock couldn't be hers, then at least she had Mr. Jack Daniels.

_'Cause trying not to love you, only goes so far  
>Trying not to need you, is tearing me apart<br>Can't see the silver lining, from down here on the floor  
>And I just keep on trying, but I don't know what for<em>

**End of Chapter 7**

**Soooo…what'd ya think? Going in a different direction here at the end, but keep the faith, it'll lead to interesting things… The whiskey thing: I don't do alcohol at ALL, but it went good in the story. Go with it.**

**Let me know if I should keep going on this story path or make a sequel, like a few months down the road?**

**Thanks!**

Seek the LORD while he may be found; call upon him while he is near, let the wicked forsake his way, and the righteous man his thoughts let him return to the LORD that he may have compassion on him and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. Isaiah 55:6-7


	8. Chapter 8 And Its Too Late Now

**Chapter 8-And It's Too Late Now To Put Out The Fire**

**SO sorry it's been SO long for an update. I just wasn't inspired until recently, and I've been busy with class and work. BUT, a HUGE thank you to everyone for your patience and sticking with me on this story!**

**I went in a different direction, so once again, please bear with me. I had SO much fun writing this! Here we go:**

_Previously on Reba:_

_As Brock suffers at the front door, a woman of forty five is falling apart in her bedroom, unsure if she made the right decision. Instead of debating this thought, for now, she grabs the bottle of whiskey carefully hidden under her mattress and does what she knows she will regret later. Drinking a long swig from the full bottle._

_If Brock couldn't be hers, then at least she had Mr. Jack Daniels._

She was flying. Sky high. Part of her wanted to end it, to go home from this strange place to her Brock. However, the other part of her felt an odd sense of peace. A peace she had only felt one time before in her life, which was when she was thirteen years old in church when she accepted Christ as her Savior.

She sees an inordinate amount of white as she finally reaches her destination. It's an angel. He's glowing.

"Reba…." He calls out to her.

"How do you know my name?" She asks, faintly.

"I am an angel of God."

"Wh-why am I here?" Trembling lips give away her question.

"You're suffering. The Lord has sent me to appear to you to give you sound advice." The voice of the angel held nothing but sincerity. Reba said nothing, so the angel continued. "You will continue to suffer for sometime, for that is how it is written, but you will come out of it a better person. More understanding. And most of all, forgiving."

"Forgiving? Me? But I'm the one who needs to be forgiven. I think there's been a mistake here." Reba blurts out her confusion.

The angel shakes his head at the middle-aged red head. "No, Reba. There is no mistake. Your own sins have been forgiven." 

"But-But if that's true, then who do I have to forgive?" At this point she's feeling extremely light-headed but her hunger for additional knowledge outweighs her own physical condition. 

"In time, you will know the answer. It will be very clear to you." Now, Reba nods her head in agreement and utter astonishment. The angel continues, "As for now, follow your heart, and rely on the Lord. Never forsake what your heart is telling you...because God is in your heart." 

Upon finishing his message to the woman before him, the angel suddenly disappeared and somehow morphed into Brock. Her Brock. He couldn't have been standing there for more than ten seconds, but in those precious seconds, Reba knew of every detail on her ex-husband right down to the presense of the silvering hairs upon his gorgeously thick head of hair and the mysterious gold wedding band on his ring finger that gave her a peaceful feeling very deep in her warm heart. 

But before she had time to analyze these features, plus Brock's ever-growing smile, a sudden burst of white light hit her eyes and she was gone. She felt herself jump in her own bed and quickly open her eyes, only to slam them shut just as quickly as she had opened them. Her head was pounding, and as she rolled over, the forty-five year old mother found the culprit: two drained bottles of whiskey lying haphazardly next to her on the unwashed sheets. Rolling her eyes, she brought her pillow over her head to block the incoming light from the nearby window.

"Mom, come on. Get up." It was Cheyenne's voice. That shrill, loud voice. The same voice that pulled the curtains back. Reba just groaned and pulled the pillow down even further. "No, uh-huh, we're not doing that today, okay? Have you eaten anything? I didn't see any food downstairs." She pushes gently. Getting no response, she pushes even further. "Mom! This has got to stop!" Cheyenne demands. 

Reba bolts upright in bed, but immediately regrets her sudden action due to the throbbing intensity in her head. 

"Cheyenne! Get. Out. Now." A moment of silence follows as Reba takes a hard breath. "Please..." She adds this with an ounce of sensitivity.

"No, Mom. I can't." Cheyenne sighs, walking to the foot of her mother's king size bed. Resting her hands on her hips, she pauses to find the right "words" to continue. "Mom, it's been three weeks like this. I'm worried about you...so is everyone else. Jake, Kyra...Elizabeth keeps asking for Grandma." Cheyenne pleads with her mother, using the granddaughter bit as her bait. 

"Well, you can tell everyone to quit their worryin' cause I'm fine. I'll be fine. I just need to be alone for awhile." Reba blantantly ignores the Elizabeth issue, knowing what her daughter was doing.

"You're not fine! Look at yourself!" she stops for a second, thrusting her arm in front of her, referencing her mother's appearance. The elder Hart woman in the room put her head down in her hands, knowing whatever her daughter was going to say was true, "You can't keep doing this! Going to bed at six every night, not eating, but drinking booze and-and crying yourself to sleep over this! It's not right, Mom. You're just hurting yourself and your family." Reba interrupted her daughter's desperation, popping her head up a little.

"Cheyenne please," Rubbing her temples, she finds a bit of strength to continue, "I can't take this right now, okay? I'm doing the best I can right now, and if that means I'm not cleaning up after the kids and doing the laundry, then that's just too damn bad. And I'm not hurting myself, Cheyenne! I just need more time!" The red-head is way past frustrated at this point.

"This is past doing the laundry, Mom. Yeah, you go to work, just barely, sometimes every other day. Then come home to teenagers who have to come over to mine and Van's house to eat. And you're left to a dark house where you come up to your bedroom alone, and drown your sorrows in whiskey... You know something's wrong! Dad hurt you, and now you're in too deep to see the pain that's causing. I was right and you know it...how many times are you gonna let Dad-" She didn't finish...Cheyenne put one too many "Dad's" in there and Reba was not having any of it. She knew she had pushed her mother's only button.

"Out Now!" The mother's tone said it all. "If you are gonna come in here, to MY house, where I raised you and yell 'I told you so!" then I don't need you here at all!" Reba screamed, not regretting a word of her outburst. As bad as her head is pounding, she holds her daughter's stare and then releases it when she see Cheyenne heading for the door. Her head hangs down as she knows she can't leave things like this with her eldest.

"Cheyenne, wait." Seeing her daughter's hand fall swiftly from the door knob from the corner of her eye, she eases into her next words.

"Honey, your father and I-our lives are none of your business. We've known each other for thirty years. He's seen me at my worst, and I've watched him succeed when he thought he couldn't. I've put him through dental school and he's put me mostly through hell these past four years. But, recently we got past that. And then I realized that despite our strong feelings for one another, this couldn't go on. We were hurting too many people, and it was selfish. It-uhm... Just wasn't right. Not meant to be."

Reba paused as a pulsating pain shot through her whole body this time. Was it because of the insane hangover...or that she didn't believe a word that came out of her own mouth? She ignored the feeling though, and continued her plea. 

"But you have to let me get through this in my own way. Give me time." Reba's eyebrows raised, as if asking a question, but her tone indicated she needed no one's permission to continue her own behavior. 

"Fine." Cheyenne relented, but not without a catch. "But if this goes on too much longer, I'm not taking any excuses!" She points her finger in her mother's face, noting the bloodshot eyes, puffy cheeks, and lack of shine from the blue eyes. Turning around again to the door, she opens it and is halfway through it when she adds, "Just so you know, Dad likes Jack Daniels, too. He's worse off than you, though." And with that, she's off. To where, Reba did not care. She falls back into the pillow knowing that a man with blonde locks of hair three years older than she, was having a very similar battle.

**End of Chapter 8!**

**Hope you enjoyed it and PLEASE give me your thoughts by REVIEWING! It helps me :)**

**ALSO, let me know in your review what you want to happen in the story! You never know what I might use!  
><strong>

**Thanks!**

**Proverbs 3:3-Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.**


	9. Chapter 9 To Put Out The Fire

**Chapter 9**

**Back again so soon! Yay! It's kind of short, but the next one is loonngg! You'll thank me! Please Review… love the reviews from last chapter: thank you reviewers!**

Not two miles away from his ex-wife, Brock finds himself clutching his wedding picture and a nearly empty bottle of Jack in the recliner when he hears the doorbell ring. Cringing at the obnoxious sound, he finishes off the liquor bottle and throws it on the once clean carpet. However, he is careful to set the picture in its rightful spot over the mantle on his way to the relentless figure behind the door.

"Mr. H, how's it goin?" Van bursts into the barely lit living room noting the bottle of whiskey on the floor and beer bottles on the coffee table, dirty clothes strewn everywhere, and, of course, the picture. That was the picture Van had secretly admired from a far ever since he entered into the Hart family. Not only because Mrs. H was hot back then, but to him, it signified a time when things were settled and not off the beaten path.

"Van, now's not a good time. Besides, your wife just was here yesterday with the same lecture you're probably about to give me." Brock resigns to the chair he'd just been sitting in and picks up a stale bottle of Heineken. 

"Come on, Mr. H. You know we're just doing this because we care about you." 

"Yes, and frankly, I wish everyone would quit." His tanned face is firm in decision, but his eyes are full of confusion. 

Van could see he was fighting a losing battle here, so he gave in. 

"Fine. Have it your way. But you know we're here for you, and you know this behavior isn't getting you anywhere. I think you need to see someone, Mr. H. A therapist, counselor, whatever! Just so you aren't sitting here, drinking and-and throwing any chance to see your kids away!" He sighs and finishes his speech. "Just answer me this: Do you think it's solving anything by drinking to numb the pain?"

Brock considers answering with a yes, but knew deep down it was only making the problem worse. So, he whispers a quiet "no."

"Then get up off your butt and do something about it!" Van spreads his arms out in front of him dramatically.

"What?" Brock's face turns confused at the sudden outburst from his son-in-law. This is the last thing he needs, he thinks as he glances at Reba's picture over Van's head.

"Go tell her how you feel!"

"Go tell who how I feel?" Brock was playing dumb, hoping Van would give up and leave.

"Mrs. H! Man you really are drunk." Brock shakes his head, knowing Van knew.

"I did that, son. But she says we're just hurting BJ and Henry." He takes a long swig of beer. 

"But it's over between you and Barbara Jean, right?"

"Yes, of course it's over, Van! She's 500 miles away!" Brock throws down the beer, growing impatient. 

"Good then go over and fight for Reba!" 

"It's not that simple, she slammed the damn door in my face! I can't go back there!" 

"Yes you can!" They both let out a heavy sigh. "Look, Mr. H, I don't know what happened between you two, but I do know I have never seen Mrs. H look so secure and sure of herself when you were with her the day Cheyenne attacked you guys. That just doesn't go away because she doesn't want to hurt the person who made a baby with her husband a few years ago."

Silence follows. Brock is thinking, and Van is making sense, for once in his life. He knows the hurt he's been going through these past few weeks, and it wasn't getting any better. But who's to say it would get better if he fought for her. What if she turned him down? He couldn't bear the thought of another rejection from the fiery red head.

"Van, I of all people know that feeling doesn't go away. Hell, I've been holding it in since I married Barbara Jean. But, I have to respect Reba's feelings."

"So that's it?" Van asks incredulously.

"Yeah that's it." He nods his head with a definite tone.

"Well, okay then. I guess I'll be going." Van retreats to the door. He opens the door and looks back at his father-in-law who is holding a beer and staring at the wedding picture.

"Mr. H?" Van stops, halfway through the door.

"Yeah, Van?"

"You still love her, don't you?" Van's caring eyes shined into Brock's dull one's, as the older man in the room brought his head up.

No words were needed while Brock's head tilted up and down, only once, as confirmation for the young man standing in the doorway. His lips were formed together, and his expression resigned to a regretful appearance.

Van nodded, giving a sad smile as he closed the door behind him.

**End Of Chapter 9**

**Sorry for the shortness, but please read below! :) **

**I've been reading more fanfic and one specifically called "Hart Breaking Words" (go check that one out…) very similar, but MORE in depth! I wanna write like that, but it's hard to allow myself to go that deep, with the little time I have…but I'll try. 5 junior level college classes and 18 hours of work per week is tough! Please bear with me, again.**

**But, thanks for reading AND reviewing!**

**Matthew 7:7-9 "Ask and it will be given to you;" He said, "Seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened."**


	10. Chapter 10 Then I See Your Face

**Chapter 10-Then I See Your Face And It's Hard To Fake It**

**Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews, reads, and follows! They really mean a lot to me and encourage me! Here's the next chapter, and let me know what you think…OH and I hope you're enjoying the quick updates…next chapter may take awhile.**

The sun shone brightly through the windows of Reba's car one hot summer afternoon on her way to pick up dinner for the kids. Kyra had band camp almost every day, and Jake had taken up football, which meant camp all day, every day. So, she had nominated poor Van to drop them off in their respective places each morning and take them home in the afternoon.

Reba cursed silently, as her weak sunglasses and pounding headache that had been there for six continuous weeks were not helping matters. She swore on the sixth week of her drinking binge that she would at least get takeout for her family every night. Even if the hangover was still present in the late afternoon.

She sighed as she pulled into a space in the parking lot of the grocery store. Getting out of the car, Reba ran her thin fingers through her now neck-length hair and smoothed out her black Nike dry-fit pants and white Nike sleeveless workout top. Since her drinking days had started, she had gone to the back of her closet to the lounge around clothes. Granted they were actually meant for working out, but maybe this way, Cheyenne would get of her case about getting out of the house if she thought her mother looked dressed for fitness.

Walking in the store, Reba headed for the prepared foods section, mind already choosing what to get. She settled on a rotisserie chicken and then chose three sides that everyone would like. As Reba hurriedly picked up the last side of macaroni and cheese, she notices her thin arm, and then her slimming waist and stomach while she brushes up against the buggy in her once form-fitting clothes.

She sighs, realizing for the first time just how much weight she had lost. She knew she hadn't been eating 3 meals a day, but filling those meal times with liquor. After her divorce, she had lost quite a bit of weight with the depression and shock, but she hadn't turned to the bottle. No, this time was different. Reba know knew what this was doing to her body. She knew this was the lowest she'd ever been in her life. Having love just in her heart's reach, but unable to do anything more was killing her.

Shaking off the teary-eyed feeling in aisle two of the grocery store, she turns her buggy around, only to have the same tears return again. There he was, standing at the opposite end of the aisle, staring at her. His ex-wife.

"Damn you, Brock." The fiery red head cursed under her breath, as she did nothing but stand still. They were both frozen in time. It had been six long weeks. Six weeks since they had touched one another.

Brock was too caught up in his beautiful ex-wife to move, say nothing of speak. He just stood there with his mouth open. He couldn't believe how thin she was. He had never seen her that thin. Ever. Much less in Nike gear. This showed off everything, including how much she hadn't been eating. He guessed she'd been drinking too, considering the red, puffy cheeks and eyes. Her eyes...Cheyenne had mentioned they were dull, but this? His eyes moved to Reba's hair which was long, but just the right length...but it had lost it's fire. It broke his heart, right there in aisle two.

Reba was trying not to stare at Brock, darting her eyes away. She was trying to put him in the dream she'd had weeks ago, however, it wasn't fitting...yet. But she still caught a full glimpse of his voluptuous blonde hair. It had grown over his ears and was almost over his blue eyes since the last day they were together. His eyes, she could tell from far away, had been bloodshot for quite some time. He hadn't shaved in a couple of weeks, as the more than five oclock shadow graced his soft features. Upon glancing into his small shopping basket, she found all the proof she needed that he was just as miserable as she was: two cases of Heineken and two bottles of Jack Daniel's. Once again, their eldest child was correct.

"Hi, Brock." She was the first to make the move, as she edged toward him down the short aisle.

"Uhm, Hi, Reba..." Brock was obviously still shaken by her appearance. He halfway recovered in an instant, though, "Wh-What are you doing here?"

"Just came to pick up dinner for the kids." Her eyes finally shifted upward. "You?" Dumb question, Reba...

"Oh, ahh...well. I-uhh, ran out of uhm...Hell, I ran out of liquor." He finally admits why he's at the store in the early evening, as she already knows.

"Oh, well okay." She observes his shaking hand run through the thick lockes of blondeish hair. Easily one of his nervous habits, Reba thought. A moment of awkward silence follows. Reba breaks it. "Well I guess I better get this home before it gets cold..." the statement hangs in the air as Brock finally gets her drift.

"Oh, uh, yeah sure. Of course." He's stammering. Shifting his weight as she goes to push her buggy, he steps in front of it. Reba knew it was coming, sooner or later.

"Brock, come on. Don't do this," She looks upward, relying on God to get her through this one. Her hands gripped the cart tighter, while he lightly pushed on the edge of it.

"Reba, I just wanna talk..." She reluctantly stays put. Silence follows, again. 

"Well, talk, or I'm leaving!" Her patience was already in shambles.

"I miss you!" It came out suddenly. His love's face was one of confusion and exhaustion. But Brock didn't stop.

"I miss you, okay. I miss you, and I love you and I still want you!" Brock's shopping basket had long since abandoned his hands, which were now animatedly floating in the air.

"No. No, you can't. We can't do this Brock! Not here, not ever, okay? We would be hurting everyone!" She hisses, not even feeling the tears falling from her fragile face. 

"We_ are_ hurting everyone, honey! But most importantly, we're hurting ourselves!" He is full on yelling, and doesn't even care. However, he sees her look and tones it down a notch. 

"Look, Reba, you and me belong together, okay? Four years ago was a mistake and I don't give a damn about BJ and what she thinks about us!" He takes a breath. "I've been drowning myself for weeks now in this booze, and I think you have too." 

"We tried, Brock. We tried, but BJ and _your son _do matter in this! And whatever I put into _my _body is _none _of your business!" Reba's index finger accusingly stretches out to his face. She's even yelling now, concern of others opinions not in her head. 

"Well..You haven't been eating!" Brock searches for something to say.

"And _that_ is none of your business either!" Defense mode is in the red head, but she doesn't deny his accusation.

"Look at yourself! You're as thin as a rail! You can't keep doing this to yourself...everyone's concerned. I've never seen you this way before, sweetheart." Brock shows true concern and it scares Reba. She does the one thing she knows how to do: run. But she forgets that Brock knows her moves. He's known her moves for over twenty-five years. He steps closer to her. 

"Don't run from this, Reba. Just let me in. Please." He begs, seeing the scared look in her eyes. She hears desperation in his soft voice.

Despite the desperation, in the quietest voice she chokes out the whispered words, "I can't. Do this." Brock knows he's pushing her. "I have to go. I'm sorry." His hands fall from the cart while she escapes his questioning. Brock's eyes follow the downward motion of his hands as he stands there, stuck in time.

She blazes past onlookers to the checkout lane, and stops for a second at the incap of an aisle, picking up a bottle of grey goose, not even considering what she was doing. Practically throwing the money at the clerk, Reba hurries to her car before anyone can say anything to her. Finally in the driver's seat, she lets every tear fall, sobbing over her ex-husband's words. Why is this so hard? 

_It doesn't have to be.  
><em>

She knew that voice. God was trying to get her attention. She had been pondering that dream or vision for weeks, but right now, all she wanted to do was numb the pain at home, alone, with the bottle of vodka she had in the seat next to her. 

When Reba made her way to the front door of her home, she took a steady breath and wiped away the tears. Nodding her head ever so slightly, telling herself to buck up, she enters into the home. The kids were sitting on the couch, still sweaty from their practices. Using her rehearsed 'everything's okay' voice, she told them she was tired and was going to bed early. But she still held the plastic bag that contained the vodka before she went up to bed. 

Kyra and Jake watched her ascend the stairs, slowly and then looked towards the kitchen table where their mom had placed the bags of food. 

"Was that vodka she had in that bag?" The innocent young boy's face said it all. He was concerned for his mother and didn't understand why she was so depressed. He was ten, but understood enough of the situation between his mother and father to know things were not good. 

"Yeah.." Kyra confesses, not covering for her adult mother anymore. A ten year old shouldn't know what vodka looked like. She answers his silent question, "She'll be okay, Jake. Comewatcher can watch a movie while we eat." Kyra is too busy deciding if her own words of her mother are true, to worry about what the boy thought at the moment. As Jake expresses his excitement, Kyra makes a move.

"Jake, you pick the movie. I'll be back in a minute." Krya knocks on the door, but doesn't wait for her mother to give permission to enter. 

"Mom?" The young girl questions. Not getting a response, she edges into the room, finding her forty five year old mom sitting against the headboard on the bed, holding the bottle of vodka. She was staring off into space, eight hundred thousand miles away from her daughter and everything else that used to mean the world to her.

"Mom? Hello..?" She moves to the left side of the bed, noting the bottle was already a fourth empty. Growing frustrated Kyra practically yells, "Mom!"

Reba jumps in the bed, looking at the source of her interruption. "Oh, Kyra. What is it?" Her words are only somewhat slurred, as she's learned to handle her alcohol. But her daughter knows she's somewhere else.

"Nothing...I just-wanted to make sure you were okay?" There was nothing Kyra wanted more than to chew out her own mother, throw a full on temper tantrum right here, in her mother's bedroom. But, the second she had walked into that room, she knew she couldn't be the one to do that. So, she formed her anger into genuine concern.

"Ohh, honey I'm fine!" Reba sniffs back the running nose, and any tear stains are wiped from her eyes. She sounds happier, but anyone who knew her would know it's a front.

"Are you sure, Mom?"

"Yes, I'm okay." Reba pats her girl's arm reassuringly. In all seriousness, she tells her daughter, "Thank you for looking out for me, Kyra. This hasn't been easy for me or for you kids either, but you've really come through for me. And I promise this whole thing won't last much longer. I just need to, ah, pull myself together."

"You're welcome." Her façade is one of pity for her mother as she pats the older Hart woman's hand, and then edges towards the bedroom door.

"Kyra?" Stopping as she reaches the open door, she turns her innocent 15 year old body to her mother. "I love you. And tell Jake I love him too…" Reba has one simple request that puts hope in her middle child's heart.

"Sure Mom. I love you, too." The younger redhead shakes her head sadly as she silently closes her mother's door, leaving the older redhead to her thoughts of depression, with an odd mix of hope.

**End of Chapter 10**

**Thanks for reading, y'all! Hope you're enjoying: so special shout out to me new readers! Hang with me: I'm planning great things for this story, but I wanna hear what you want to see out of it. Hope everyone has a great Labor Day weekend! Oh and Roll Tide y'all!**

**Romans 5:3-4****  
>Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope<strong>.


	11. Chapter 11 Lessons Learned

**Chapter 11: Lessons Learned.**

**Hey! Thanks for being so patient and still reading! Y'all rock! On with the story:**

Emptiness. That was all he felt. He felt emptiness and hurt and frustration. So, he did the only thing he knew how to do to relieve the pain, besides drink. Brock played golf. He swung that nine-iron until he could feel the rubber grip practically become one with his calloused hands. And when his mind grew tired from concentration and monotony of golf, he took his frustration to something he'd never tried before: boxing.

Boxing would have never entered the forty-eight year olds mind until he got so tired of swinging that golf club that he couldn't see straight. One late afternoon on his way home from the course, he passed an old gym that had a banner on the door. 

The banner was one advertising of a boxing match the night before...he turned his car around and entered the rustic building, noting it's emptiness on his way to pick up the faded red gloves just outside the ring. He placed them on his tired hands and stared at them for several long minutes thinking about the redhead he'd known for over thirty years. Thinking about how angry and helpless it made him feel that he couldn't have her. She was right there, but she had told him that they were not an option as a couple.

He bitterly shook his head, trying to release the memories. When his head popped up, he noticed a black punching bag hanging in the far corner of the room. His feet guided him to the large bag almost calling his name. Brock now stood in front of the bag, not even debating his next move.

Right there in his khaki pants and polo golf shirt, he punched the hell out of that punching bag. He threw left punches, and right jabs, not holding back one ounce of emotion, strength or anything he had left in his body. He let go of the bitterness he held towards Barbara Jean, and the anger he had at himself for letting his wife of twenty years slip through his fingers. Brock could feel the sweat pouring from his forehead and down his back onto his expensive shirt after only five minutes. However, he was feeling no exhaustion. He felt nothing. Nothing but an escape. This was different from golf. No, golf didn't accomplish much. In fact it made matters worse: taking the time from hole to hole, pondering over his mistakes and lost love. Boxing held his head high, made the middle aged man feel like he had a fighting chance. Like he was fighting for something. 

He kept going for another thirty minutes never once stopping for a break. Brock was not in shape...hell he'd been on the couch drinking hard liquor and beer for the last two months. But this was beyond being in shape. It was mental.

Finally he stopped tossing punches and grabbed the bag, holding onto it for dear life. Brock closed his eyes, sweat pouring over them. Breathing heavily, in and out he felt something in his heart. Maybe it was God telling him something; he wasn't sure. He realized that he had a fighting chance with his ex wife but only if he did one thing: keep fighting. Brock had no idea how he'd get her back but he knew that she still loved him and that he had the strength to fight for her. He had tried life without her and that had turned him into a barely breathing alcoholic. He knew he couldn't fall back into that man. 

Opening his eyes, he slowly released the bag, arms heavily falling to his drenched body. Brock pulled the gloves off, returning them to their spot by the ring. He told himself he'd be back tomorrow as he heard the door slam closed behind him. Brock knew he had some changing to do while he started to plan his way back to the feisty redhead he left four years ago. When he started the ignition in his car, he smiled and shook his head, laughing at himself for just how stupid he'd been to let that beautiful, intelligent woman slip through his grasp.

But this time, he was going to get her back; even if it killed him.

That was three weeks ago. Ever since that first day in the gym, he'd been back every day. Sometimes even twice a day, when the dental office was slow. Brock was starting to feel more alive, and he could even tell his clothes were getting tighter from his growing muscles. 

His only problem was figuring out when to make his move. He knew what he was going to do to win her back, he just didn't know if she needed more time, he thought as he headed up the stairs to jump in the shower after a long morning at work. He had the rest of the day off and was going to relax and watch some chick flicks for more ideas on how to gain her back.

As soon as he loosened his tie, the phone rang. Sighing, he walked over to the nightstand to pick up the phone, and sat on the bed...

**TBC :)**

**End of Chapter 11  
><strong>

**Thanks for reading! Hope you like it as I'm about to turn the tables next chapter, BUT I know you're gonna like it! TRUST ME :) **

**"Do the job the LORD your God has assigned you by following his instructions and obeying his rules, commandments, regulations, and laws...Then you will succeed in all you do and seek to accomplish." 1 Kings 2:3**


	12. Chapter 12 Let Go Of My Defenses

Chapter 12—Let Go Of My Defenses

Sorry for the short delay, but it will be well worth it. Here's to a great second semester :) Here ya go! (Story Title—All In by Lifehouse-)

Knocking. That was what she heard. No, not knocking...Pounding. On the front door. Quickly, the redhead jolts upright in bed, trying to focus on anything but the incessant pounding. Grunting, she makes her way through the bedroom door, down the ever-growing set of stairs, and finally to the door. Swinging it open, she sends her ex a death glare.

"Brock, what in the hell are you doing pounding on my door at..." She glances at the clock above the television, "1 in the afternoon?" Now her argument wasn't so strong.

"Reba, I need-"

She doesn't give him a chance to finish. "Well, whatever it is, I don't have time for you today, Brock. I've got a meeting in a couple of hours, and I still need to shower and get rid of this hangover. So, if ya don't mind." Before the the door slams in the man's face, he pushes it forcefully, with his calloused left hand. She's already halfway up the stairs by this point, but whips around from the sound of the slam of the door against the back wall.

"Hey! I told you I can't do this today! I don't have the energy or the time to go forty rounds with you now, mister! Now just-"

He cuts her off as she hits the bottom of the stairs with a pained voice.

"Reba, it's Henry. He's-He's" The choking man stands before his ex-wife, who is just now taking in his appearance. Brock's long hair is a mess, but oddly attractive to the woman in her mid forties, his nice blue button down shirt is wrinkled, along with his once pristine khaki pants. His tie is barely hanging on, and his face is one of grief and worry.

"What? What happened? Come here...sit down." Reba's inner wife from 4 years ago immediately takes over, and wraps one arm around his shoulder, while her left hand is busy removing his tie, for comfort.

A long sigh escapes his dry lips. "He's dead."

Those two words stop everything for 30 full seconds. She doesn't remove her arm from his shoulders, or drop her dainty fingers from his tie. She simply stares at him, mouth wide open, praying this was a dream.

"Hh-How? Why? Brock, are you sure?" He jumps up and shrugs her hands off of him. He's now pacing the living room floor, making Reba dizzy. She shakes her head, forcing herself to ignore the growing pain in her head and focus on her husband..wait, ex-husband.

"Yes, I'm sure! Why would I lie about my son's death?!" His arms were flying in opposite directions now, and Reba had to stop him. She stands up and places a hand on either shoulder to ground him.

"Hey, Brock, I'm sorry. Calm down and tell me what happened." She notices the pained look on his face and adds, "please?"

He looks straight into her eyes, and is immediately transported back into that feeling years ago, of being her husband, where he didn't have to worry about a mistress, or an illegitimate child.

"5:30 this morning. A uh, drunk driver hit their car, but only on the right side, so, bj didn't suffer any major injuries. They were traveling back here. To see me." The whole time his eyes never left hers.

"Oh, Brock. Come here." With one swift motion, they were in each others arms again.

After two months of not touching each other, one simple tragedy made it so easy to feel one another. This was the one time neither one of them cared about physical attraction or who should or shouldn't kiss who. Brock's youngest son had died, and she didn't know what to do other than to hold him like she used to do. She feels his hot breath on her neck as it raises her long hair ever-so-slightly, and the shivers down the spine are back again. But she relaxes and brings her head up from his wrinkled shirt to whisper words of love to him.

"Brock, I'm so sorry." She takes a deep breath, praying that God will give her the right words to tell him. "I-I don't know what you're goin through right now, but I'm here. Our beautiful children are here for you and safe and healthy. I thank God for that every day. But there was a reason for this. We may not understand it or be able to comprehend that Henry's-gone. But I know one thing," At this, she hears his sobs, and pushes his body back, still grasping his shoulders and looking into his misty blue-gray eyes, "You're my best friend, and whatever you need, I'll get it for you. Or I'll do something, or call some people if you need-"

Brock's lips cut her off. It was not a passion filled kiss, but it was enough to get his point across that he did need her. It lasted a few seconds, and when they let go, Reba simply nodded at him, in understanding. They both knew each other enough to know that appreciation and sorrow was going through both of their minds.

"You're all I need right now, Reba." She nods again. "I just can't even comprehend this, and I don't need anyone but you. That's why I came here."

"But Brock, why-why did you wait til 1 in the afternoon to come? I've been here all day." They both sit carelessly on the couch, Reba facing Brock, one leg underneath her. Her hand rested on his leg, and his hand rested upon her hand.

"I just, ah, got the call. About 30 minutes ago...I would've come sooner, but..I couldn't move from my bed." He takes a minute, balling up his fist and placing his head upon it while leaning over in grief. She puts her hand on his back, full of empathy. "Barbara Jean called and said the lines were jammed, so she could just then get out. She said she, uhm, hated to tell me over the phone, but ah, she was still in recovery from her surgery. She said she'd call me tomorrow to talk more."

"Do you know what her injuries were?" She asked gently.

"Uhm, let's see..." He was obviously having trouble. "I think she mentioned they had to go in and stop some internal bleeding, and she had a broken arm from the airbag."

"Oh." There were no words to really say.

"I just don't know..what to do Reba. I don't... know." It came out in broken pieces between sobs.

All she did was hold him while he sobbed and occasionally whispered soothing words in his ear. Finally, Reba could see he really needed rest.

"Brock, let's get you to bed. You're exhausted." She could see him start to object. "Eh-eh! It's fine. You'll take Cheyenne's old room. And the kids are at sleepovers for the next two nights."

"Thank you, Reba." He only muttered, but his eyes had a glimmer when he looked at her. She took his hand as they glided up the stairs. When they made it to Cheyenne's room, he looked at her.

"Reba, will you, will you stay with me?"

END OF Chapter 12

-Cliffhanger...hehe-

Until next time...

"_Seek the LORD and his strength; seek his presence continually!"- 1 Chronicles 16:11_


	13. Chapter 13 Broken Down And All Alone

**Chapter 13: I'm Broken Down and All Alone**

**Here's another chapter…and thank you all for reading and please leave a review (short or long). It's a long chapter this time, and I got stuck some places but tried to get un-stuck. Let me know how I did, please. (Chapter Title from "How" by Maroon 5)**

_Previously on Reba:_

_"Brock, let's get you to bed. You're exhausted." She could see him start to object. "Eh-eh! It's fine. You'll take Cheyenne's old room. And the kids are at sleepovers for the next two nights."_

_"Thank you, Reba." He only muttered, but his eyes had a glimmer when he looked at her. She took his hand as they glided up the stairs. When they made it to Cheyenne's room, he looked at her._

_"Reba, will you, will you stay with me?"_

His eyes are full of sorrow and fear. There's no way, no matter how awkward it would be, that she could say no.

"Of course. But let's go to my room. Bigger bed." All of a sudden her hands get clammy and she drops Brock's hand. She hasn't shared a bed with this man in years.

They make it to the bedroom door, and Brock walks right on in, like he still lives here. Reba lags behind at the door, trying to tell herself to ignore the butterflies and swooning feeling in her stomach and heart; her best friend needs her. She finally pushes herself into the room, standing near the bed as Brock starts pulling at his tie and ripping at the buttons on his shirt. Reba's eyes went wide and her heart was beating out of her chest. He didn't think...

"Woah, woah, what are you doin?" She asks, trying to keep her tone level.

"Getting ready for bed. I've been in these clothes all day, Reba. I can't sleep in khakis and a polo." His voice comes out hoarse from all the crying.

Once she sees his undershirt, she relaxes, knowing it won't be as difficult.

"Oh, okay. Right. Well, make yourself comfortable." She says as she sees him peel off his khakis and head for the bathroom.

The exhausted redhead sits on the bed as a thought occurs to her. She remembers her meeting, and curses under her breath. Grabbing her phone, she texts her assistant to cancel the meeting and promptly receives a comfirmation response a few seconds later. Reba sighs, easing into the bed, remembering her hangover, as it comes back over her body. A minute later, Brock walks out of the bathroom, still clad in a tshirt and blue plaid boxers. She found it astounding at how easily he took over her, once their, bed.

As soon as his long, tan arm wrapped around her stomach, rather unexpectedly, all of the doubts, fears, and butterflies went away. All she needed was the familiar feel of him holding her, like they used to do every night when they were husband and wife, and she was back to that loving feeling from years ago. His face took over into her growing red hair and she was lost in his embrace.

A silence filled the master bedroom as Brock's breathing began to steady. Reba thought he had gone to sleep as soon as he hit the pillow, but should have known better.

"It's all my fault." That had to be the weakest she had ever heard her best friend's voice in their thirty years together. Reba quickly turned her body around, facing the grieving man curled up beside her. His arm was still across her mid section, but now resting on her back.

"Brock Hart, you listen to me. None of this was your fault. You had no control of what state of inebriation that other driver was in. You weren't driving BJ and Henry in that car, so you truly cannot blame yourself."

Brock cuts in. "I'm not talking about that part of the accident."

"Well, what are you-...oh." She understands his guilty conscience.

Both of them look at each other in the brightly lit room, at one thirty in the afternoon, their souls as open as the bright rays of sun.

"Yeah." A single tear slips from Reba's glassy eyes, and Brock takes her hand. He breathes deeply and utters his guilt.

"If it wasn't for me not being able to control my feelings towards you, then Barbara Jean would've never left with Henry, and they wouldn't have been in that accident. He would still be here."

"But, Brock...we couldn't have known that this was gonna happen. We can't just go blamin ourselves for something God had complete control over." She's pleading with him, and she's fighting a losing battle.

He ignores her. "You were right, Reba. You were right."

Her brow crinkles. "Right about what?"

"You kept saying that we'd end up hurting either Barbara Jean or Henry, and it turns out we did. I just didn't think it would ever happen. I mean I thought we would only be hurting ourselves."

"Look, Brock...I thought I was right. I thought that if we'd stay away from each other and erase the times we'd had together, that every thing would go back to normal. That I could just forget the kind and giving man you really are." Reba sighs, gaining her train of thought. "But I was wrong. You and I have something, Brock. We have something that cannot be ignored, and it had nothing to do with that horrible accident that happened. I mean, what if you and BJ were still married and her and Henry had gone out for dinner late one night? What if a different drunk driver would have hit them? What if-"

Again, Brock's lips find Reba's and she forgets everything she had been saying. The kiss lasts longer than the first one, and holds more potential to their future.

"I get it." His statement is simple, as he leans back slowly from her in the bed. But it's meaning is far from simple.

"Are you sure? Because you can't put yourself through that guilt. It's just not worth it. Henry...he wouldn't want that life for you, okay?" Tears flow freely down the redhead's face, as she sees a few roll down Brock's face as well. The two are hurting together, equally.

"Yes, I'm sure. And thank you. It's hard to-to think about living and the future right now. I know he would want me to live my life...it's just going to take some time. I'm still in shock." His tears subside for now. Brock moves his left arm from her back, and uses his finger to move her chin upward to him. Her eyes are now looking straight into his. He notices they lack the spark and fire that was once there when she yelled at him not thirty minutes ago at the door.

"Hey, listen...I couldn't do this with-without you. You are my rock through this. I don't know what I'd do if-if you weren't here with me."

"Brock, I haven't done anything really, though." Her cheeks flush. She was never any good at taking compliments.

"Yes, you have, sweetheart. I heard everything you said just now and I won't forget it. I just need you to be patient with me, about us, I mean. Because...I do love you. I just-need time to...grieve."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Reba was quick to respond.

"I know. It's fine, okay. I…love you too. It's hard for me to admit that I was…wrong. But, I was. We can't live without each other."

"I'm just glad we're on the same page…" Brock agrees with his love, as she smiles at him and turns around, inching her back closer to him. His arm finds a home over her hip and her hand gently holds his hand.

Foot steps are not heard by the pair lying in the bed, almost drifting off into sleep. The door is wide open, which mirrored their eldest daughter's mouth.

Cheyenne stands in the doorway of her mother's room, not able to breathe, make a sound, or move. She stands frozen, back in time, to when she was four years old and had a nightmare. They took her in their arms and comforted her, together, as parents.

Suddenly she shakes her head, bidding the fond memory farewell, and closes her mouth. Her lips curled into sort of a frown and then a mischievous grin.

"Mhm-Hmm…" One simple sound is made by a woman whose tone they know without having to look at the entrance to the bedroom.

Reba bolts out of the bed, leaving Brock lying there, just staring at the sheets.

"Cheyenne, out." The mother makes her way over to her confused daughter, and practically pushes her out of the door.

"Mom! What's going on? What's dad doing in there?! Why's he in YOUR bed? I thought I told you-" Cheyenne's accusing voice is heard as her mother forces her out of the bedroom.

"Go down to the kitchen, and I'll come down and explain in a minute." Reba pokes her head out of the side of the door, as Cheyenne stands now completely out of the room, arms folded and pouting like a four year old.

"But Mom!"

"Cheyenne, now!" The stern tone reflects an impatient mother who needs her daughter's compliance.

"Fine." She stomps down the stairs as Reba cooled her head and turned around to her ex-husband.

"Is she okay?" Brock humbly asks. He's staring at the sheets, but glances up to the sympathetic red-head in front of him.

"She'll be fine, Brock. She's got us in her, remember?" Reba chuckles a bit, and sees Brock grin.

She sits on the edge of the bed and puts her hand over Brock's. He looks up at her with questioning eyes.

"Listen, why don't you get some rest, and I'll be up to check on you in a little while?"

"But-I- can't you stay with me?" There's the pout Cheyenne put on just a minute ago. Now it's time for Reba to be the strong one.

"I can…just give me a few minutes with our daughter, okay?" She pats his hand with her other hand.

"Okay." He relents and slowly sinks down into the bed. Reba nods her head and goes to stand up.

"Reba?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure she knows…that I love her. Okay?" His face is one of pain from just losing a child and a fear of the possibility of losing another, in a totally different way.

"Oh, Brock…she knows." Her heart breaks for him while she stands by the bed, grasping onto his hand.

"Just, tell her. Please." Brock is adamant. They lock eyes, and Reba feels a tear sliding down her face. Why was their daughter so much like her father?

"I will." She bends down to give Brock a kiss on the cheek. After the innocent kiss, their eyes meet again, and her lips crash onto his, as his hand gently brushes her face. She backs away, unable to give anymore. Brock watches the closed door, willing for her to be in his arms, so she could ease the pain away.

**END of Chapter 13**

Thanks for reading…I'm really putting my heart into this, and getting inspiration from _your _stories also. Please leave a review letting me know how you think the story is going so far. I really appreciate it.

Remember, guys:

**"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving."-Colossians 3:23-24**


	14. Chapter 14 I'll Be Your Soldier

**Chapter 14: I'll Be Your Soldier**

_**Chapter Title inspired by "Soldier" by Gavin DeGraw**_

**Hey y'all! It's midterm and busy work time, so what do I do?-Write my favorite TV couple's fanfiction :) Glad to hear some positive reviews for last chapter! Special shout-out to my reviewers! Hope you enjoy this chapter…this one really got me. (ALSO, Go listen to "Everything That You Want" by Reba…such an unusual tune but I LOVE it.)**

_Previously on Reba:_

_"Make sure she knows…that I love her. Okay?" His face is one of pain from just losing a child and a fear of the possibility of losing another, in a totally different way._

_"Oh, Brock…she knows." Her heart breaks for him while she stands by the bed, grasping onto his hand._

_"Just, tell her. Please." Brock is adamant. They lock eyes, and Reba feels a tear sliding down her face. Why was their daughter so much like her father?_

_"I will." She bends down to give Brock a kiss on the cheek. After the innocent kiss, their eyes meet again, and her lips crash onto his, as his hand gently brushes her face. She backs away, unable to give anymore. Brock watches the closed door, willing for her to be in his arms, so she could ease the pain away._

After closing the bedroom door, Reba's mood instantly changed from sympathetic to anger and rage. The range only grew as she descended the stairs on her way to the refrigerator. Only glancing in her daughter's direction, she yanked the freezer door open, and pulled out the ice cream container, and a spoon on her way to the chair behind the counter. She took a bite, still not uttering a word to Cheyenne. Suddenly Reba moved to the cabinet, searching briefly for the m&m's.

Cheyenne watched her mother pour half the contents of the candy bag into the gallon container of ice cream. She hadn't seen her mother eat like this since the divorce…what could it be? Oh no..not...

"Mom, you're not…"She drifted off, pressing the palms of her hands on the edge of the counter. Her eyes darted back and forth from her mother's look of confusion to the container of ice cream.

"What, Cheyenne? Obviously I'm pretty angry at you right now, so can you just spit it out?" Her hand held the spoon to her mouth, not prepared for the accusation following.

"Are you pregnant?" Three words and then silence. Reba's mouth fell, and the spoon dropped to the floor with a clatter. She fell back against the chair in utter shock and hurt at her own daughter's accusation.

Reba shook her head in disbelief. "What the heck is wrong with you, Cheyenne? Do you just enjoy seeing me in pain?"

"So you're not?" Questioning eyes found her mother's.

"No, I'm not pregnant!" Reba jumped to life, picking up her spoon on the floor and walking to the sink to wash it off. "Why would you think that I would be?!"

Cheyenne went into defense mode, folding her arms and leaning towards her mother.

"Oh, I don't know. I mean how about the way you bolted down here and went straight for the ice cream and candy? And then there's your depression that's been going on for weeks. Or-or how about the fact that DAD, my dad, the one YOU divorced was just in YOUR bed? So before ya get all high and mighty with me, you might wanna consider just what the heck is wrong with YOU!"

Reba gently reached for the handle to turn the water off, not able to break her daughter's intense stare for one second. The rage in the red head had reached a new level, as she could feel her blood pressure boiling, and her head started to spin. She steadied herself by gripping hard onto the counter. She was confused, for she had never felt this kind of anger at her eldest child.

"Do not bring your father into this, Cheyenne. How dare you come into MY house and accuse me of all this!" She took a breath, noting that her daughter still had her fight face on. Round two. "First of all…"She took a steady step towards Cheyenne. "I can put whatever the hell I want to in my body without you questioning me. Secondly, my depression is none of your business, young lady. I'm doing just fine on my own." Reba saw that her daughter was cowering down, only just a bit. After all, she was her mother's daughter.

"And as for your father being in my bed…_that_ little missy, is still, NONE of your business, no matter what we do." The spark came back in the blonde's eyes.

"Ah-ha! So you two were doing something!" Her finger pointed into her mother's face.

"No! No we were not doing what _you_ think we were doing!" She pointed her finger right back in her daughter's face again and moved to sit back in her spot.

"Then what the hell were you doing mom? Cause from where I'm standing, you're alibi is looking pretty weak…" Cheyenne's arms are still folded.

"Do you really wanna know right now?" She didn't want to tell her daughter that her step-brother had died like this.

"Yes! I wanna know, mom! Why do you keep-"

"Cheyenne, Henry is gone." Reba uttered the horrible words that she wished would never have to come out of her mouth. She gently eased her head up from the comfort of her own hands and saw Cheyenne's look of confusion.

"Wh-what? What do you mean _gone_? I-I thought that he was with-." Reba felt the need to hold her's and Brock's oldest daughter close to her.

"I know. He was with Barbara Jean. But…they got into an accident early this morning." Reba's hands cover Cheyenne's. Her daughter's eyes started to fill with tears. "It was a drunk driver. Sweetheart, Henry didn't make it. And that's why your dad was here. He came to me about an hour ago and he was just so hurt and confused and-just exhausted that I couldn't leave him alone."

Cheyenne was looking down, afraid to look at her mother, after what she accused her of. Her mother saw this, and took her hand to pull her chin up. Cheyenne's look was one of sorrow and guilt.

"I'm-I'm so sorry, mom. Please, I-I didn't- mean …" She was sobbing in her mother's tender arms. Reba was just thankful to hold her baby girl.

"I know, honey. I know…it's okay." Reba breathes a sigh of sadness, mixed with relief. "I'm just glad you're here with us." Blinking back tears, Cheyenne took in her mother's strawberry shampoo, and looked at her beautiful red hair. At times, she was actually jealous of her own mother's gorgeous red locks, but now she was relieved to be able to see them.

Cheyenne pulled back, looking deep into her mother's eyes. "How's dad?"

"He's-he's trying, but mostly he's just in shock. He just needs me…and you."

"You still love him, don't you?" No visible expression but curiosity was visible on her daughter's face. Reba sighed but couldn't help to grin a little.

"Yes. I do…and he told me he loves me too..." Cheyenne and Reba grinned like teenage girls, but the elder gained control quicker than the younger.

"But…the most important thing now is getting your father through this. He needs to heal. We need to focus on his pain. I want to be here for him, and that is my number one priority."

"Oh, Mom…don't you see that dad needs _your love_ to heal?" This was the first brilliant question Reba had ever heard her daughter say.

"Thank you, sweetheart." Reba Hart's eyes were now misty.

A scream from upstairs broke their moment. Reba darted away from her daughter, not bothering to say a word, leaving Cheyenne to follow her mother at a slower pace up the stairs. What she observed in that room was something she'd never forget.

"Brock? Brock, honey wake up!" She was shaking him from the deep sleep he was in. He was tossing about, but still held his slumber.

"Huh? Oh, thank God it's you." His tone was one of relief. His undershirt was drenched with sweat, and his eyes were darting around the room.

"It's me, Brock. Everything's okay. Do you wanna talk about it?" Her arm was across his legs, while her other hand was holding Brock's upper arm and occasionally moving up to his face and then stroking his hair.

"He-was- hurting..begging me to-to save him. But all I could do was hold him. I co-couldn't do anything and he just…right there in my arms." His eyes were squinted, torture written over his face.

"Oh, Brock…" She knew he was talking about Henry. She could't let him hurt himself like this.

Suddenly, he shook his head and tried to snap himself out of it. "No, don't worry, I'm okay..I just-need to ah…" Brock didn't know how to finish. He sat up, his hands frantically wiping his tear stained cheeks.

"Hey, don't…it's okay, sweetheart. I'm here for you…please don't hold it in, okay? It's completely expected that you would feel this way." Her arm is still over his legs, and her other hand finds his hand, gripping it, letting her feelings flow to him. He felt her touch immediately, and then he felt her. His head snapped up at the emotion in her heart.

"You get me, don't you?" He didn't need to ask the question. While she didn't know what he was going through with losing a child, she had grieved over the loss of their marriage. Even though losing their marriage was less than losing a child, she still ached and suffered the same as he was now.

"Yes. I do…more than you'd ever know." This was the turning point in their relationship. Both could finally trust each other. Reba reached for Brock and pulled him into a deep hug. They just held each other and cried.

Meanwhile, their daughter was leaning against the edge of the door frame, slightly out of sight. Tears had poured down her face, after hearing her mother's response. Without a doubt in her mind, she knew that her mother and father were meant to be. She only hoped that she could love her husband with as much courage and strength that her mother loved her father.

Cheyenne ran quickly down the stairs, on a mission to find her husband. They had some work to do.

**END of Chapter 14**

Okay, so this ended kind of weird for me, but whatever. Tell me what y'all thought :)

Also, throw out any ideas you have…who knows, maybe I'll use one of them….

Much thanks for reading.

_"Rejoice with those [who] rejoice, and weep with those who weep."-Romans 12:15_


	15. Chapter 15 I Won't Let Go

Chapter 15: I Won't Let Go

_**Chapter Title inspiration from "I Won't Let Go" by Rascal Flatts**_

**SORRY for the longest delay EVER! This chapter was hard for me to write, because I wanted them to be sad, yet happy together somehow. Let me know how y'all like it, and PLEASE read the questions I have at the end for y'all! THANKS!**

A tie. Something so simple in name was turning out to be so complex in theory. Brock threw the somber black tie on his and Reba's bed. Nothing was working out right today. Disgusted, he flopped down on the bed with his head in his hands and looked down at his shoes. He looked up when he heard the bathroom door open and saw a beautiful sight.

Reba was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, a tasteful black dress on hitting just above the knees. Her heels were only a couple inches. She tilted her head while putting in a pair of black diamond earrings that Brock had given her for their 15th anniversary.

"Can you zip me up?" She gave a pleading smile and turned her back to Brock, who stood up to comply with her request. The fabric gently eased together as Reba held her shoulder length hair up. Brock moved his strong hands down to her waist and she turned around in his embrace. A sweet kiss full of emotion filled their lips. She pulled back and noticed his top two shirt buttons were open. This time, her smile was sympathetic as her long fingers pushed the buttons through the crisp white shirt.

"Where's your tie?" She patted his chest, as he sighed and picked it up off the bed.

"I couldn't get it on…"

"Here, let me." She knew he needed her today of all days, as her fingers lifted the silky tie around his neck and pulled up his collar. Brock's eyes were misty, but they managed to take in the loving red head in front of him. He stopped her before she could finish with the tie. One simple touch of his hand on her arm still sent shivers down Reba's back. She looked up to find the blue-grey eyes.

"You look beautiful, honey." She blushed and looked down at the elegant black tie, smoothing it out with her fingers. "Really, you do. And thank you, for being here." His hand was now rubbing up and down her arm.

"Thank you, Brock. And I'm always going to be here for you. Always and forever." She whispers, leaning in for another kiss.

"Hey, guys…we're gonna be late." It was their middle child who appeared at the door with a subtle warning.

Reba swiftly turned her head from him toward her daughter. "Okay, Kyra. We'll be down in a minute." She sweetly smiled at Kyra but Brock's eyes never left Reba's face.

Kyra smiled back at her mother and then moved her glance to her father, who couldn't take his eyes off of her mother. She backed away from the door, and watched as her mother pulled her father in for a long hug. Her smile still held strong on her face.

She was happy her parents were back together. Sure, it was weird last week when they had an emergency family meeting and told the whole family about everything, from their secret love "affair" to Henry's tragic death.

And then, her father took them all by surprise by asking her mother to marry him. It wasn't an over the top proposal, by any means, but it was a proposal nonetheless. He had gotten down on one knee, in front of the whole family. Reba had hesitated, only because of Brock's fragile state. But, when he explained he couldn't live without her, she accepted. Even though he hadn't gotten a ring, Kyra could tell her mother didn't care. She had learned long ago to never be surprised when it comes to this family.

"Don't forget your jacket." Reba smiled sweetly to the man she loves, and eased to the mirror to quickly run a brush through her already perfect hair. She saw Brock slowly throw the jacket on his shoulders and run a hand through his growing dusty blonde hair. A single tear fell from her eye, but she caught it before he could see. She had to be strong for her fiancé. Looking down to gather her strength, she felt his large hand on her shoulder.

"Let's go." His hand moved from her shoulder to find her hand and they descended the stairs, each trying to be strong for the other.

The kids filed out of the van, one by one, quietly. Reba had never seen her kids act so solemn or appear so concerned for their parents well being. They stood awkwardly, halfway in between the funeral home and the vehicle, not knowing what to do or where to go.

"Mom?" Cheyenne questioned, appearing at the driver's side where Reba sat behind the wheel. She turned to her daughter, and then to her fiancé. When she saw he wasn't moving, she knew he needed her.

"Why don't you take everyone inside and see if Barbara Jean is here okay?" Her eyes conveyed everything that she was willing to tell her daughter.

"Okay, ma." She patted her mother's hand and took a long glance at her father who was looking down at his hands in the passenger's seat.

Reba watched with a hint of jealousy as her eldest walked over to her husband, and immediately grabbed her three year old daughter's hand. As they all disappeared into the mournful looking building, Reba's attention went to Brock. He still sat there, obviously deep in thought.

"Brock…honey…"She started. He jolted out of his thoughts.

"Fifteen miles."

"What?" She was lost at his sudden game of numbers.

"Fifteen miles. That's the distance from our house to this place. And not once did we encounter a drunk driver. Not once, Reba!"

"Brock, sweetheart, don't do this to yourself. We can't change what happened, okay?" Her hand gently glides up and down his arm, and his blue eyes full of tears look up at her.

"But, I-I can't…"

"I know. That's why I'm here, Brock. Lean on me, kiss me, yell at me, do whatever! But I will not just stand by and let you blame this all on yourself. It isn't fair to me, you…or the kids." He was still looking at her, now a pained look on his face. Then, he leaned forward and gave her a simple kiss on the lips. It was full of meaning, though.

"No way in hell am I gonna yell at you…not after all we've been through." His brows were furrowed in deep apprehension, while his right hand held her cheek. Reba's hand moved up to grasp onto it.

"But I'd understand if you did." He nodded, a small smile thanking her.

Reba nodded towards the funeral home. "Will you lean on me during all this? My shoulder's pretty strong." She had to keep the mood light. She knew that they both knew her shoulder was pretty burdened from the recent years of heartache of divorce, teen pregnancy, and most recently, family death.

"You've got one heck of a shoulder." They chuckled lightly, and the mood became serious all of a sudden. "Thank you, Reba." A deeper kiss was initiated by the red head. Surprisingly, Brock made the first move out of the van, but almost immediately, it seemed, his fiancé was by his side, small hand in his large one.

"You know somethin' Reba?" His tone was serious.

"What's that?" Her eyes moved to his. Her other hand moved her red hair out of her eyes, so she could really look at him. The serious face matched the tone.

They both stopped walking when they came to the door. He turned to face her, hands still connected.

"I love you, more than you'll ever know."

Two tears fell down her aged face, but not from sorrow. No, these were from love.

"I love you, too." They smiled and walked through the door to say goodbye to Brock's son.

**END OF CHAPTER 15**

**Ok, should I write another chapter? I kind of wanted to get BJ's opinion/thoughts/reactions, but it may be redundant? **

**OR y'all let me know what you want to see…can't promise I'll write it, but I like to hear your thoughts.**

**OR should I just end it here?**

**THANKS for reading AND REVIEWING! Y'all are awesome! *Roll tide***

"The mark of biblical friends is that their friendship draws you closer to Christ. They "sharpen" you and motivate you to do what is right. True friends tell you the truth and even risk hurting your feelings because they love you and have your best interests at heart" -Prov. 27:6


	16. Chapter 16 Back Together

Chapter 16: Back Together

Title inspiration from Jesse McCartney's new single called "Back Together"…go check it out.

**I decided to add a little something at the beginning of this chapter.**

_Previously on Reba:_

_"You know somethin' Reba?" His tone was serious._

_"What's that?" Her eyes moved to his. Her other hand moved her red hair out of her eyes, so she could really look at him. The serious face matched the tone._

_They both stopped walking when they came to the door. He turned to face her, hands still connected._

_"I love you, more than you'll ever know."_

_Two tears fell down her aged face, but not from sorrow. No, these were from love._

_"I love you, too." They smiled and walked through the door to say goodbye to Brock's son._

Suddenly, he pulls her arm, as her hand falls from the doorknob of the funeral home door.

"Wait." His eyes are shameful, lips pursed together, while his hand finds something in his coat pocket. "I know this may not be the best timing, but I can't let you go another minute without this." Brock holds their past and future in between his right thumb and index finger.

A small gasp is given by Reba as she drops Brock's hand to cover her open mouth. It was her engagement ring-the one she sold to him on the internet, willing to release her temporary anger in an instant at Brock and BJ for going to her vacation spot on a lifetime of happiness.

"It's-it's…" She grasps for words and he grasps for her left hand with his.

"I know. I've had it with me since the day after I proposed to you. And I'm hoping you'll let me put it on your finger, where it belongs?" His face still holds sorrow, but holds promise on what she says next.

"Brock, I-I…Yes!" He now wears a big grin, forgetting his pain for a moment, and slides the ring on her small, but long fourth finger. Brock pulls Reba in for a tender kiss, with his right arm around her back and up to her neck, while her hands are entangled in his hair.

"Mmmm..Brock, we have to go in there." Reba's eyes flutter open immediately remembering where she is. And where they are...and what they were doing.

"You're right." He sighs, coming back to earth. He straightened his tie, and ran a hand through his long hair. "Let's go." Her newly adorned ring hand found his instantly, and the two entered into the somber funeral home, looking for their kids.

—

Cold. Compared to thirty minutes ago, he felt cold. Thirty minutes ago, he was holding his future wife in his arms, feeling her lips on his, lost in the temporary enjoyment of their celebration of the engagement ring.

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he stared hard at his son's casket. None of this was right. If anything, he should be the one in that casket. Hell, he was forty eight years old; his son was only three. He wished he could be in that overly decorated box, if it meant his son would be back here, living life like normal. He gritted his teeth, as he tried to remember why life was worth living.

Right on cue, a gentle squeeze was felt on his left hand. His gaze left the box and moved to the woman who held his heart in her hands. A sad smile was worn by the red head who had obviously shed tears on the somber day. He gave her an attempt at a nod to show his appreciation, but his head couldn't make the movement. She patted his hand in reassurance. _You don't have to do anything. I'm here._ Her eyes did the talking.

And there it was. The reason his life was worth living. He couldn't bring himself to smile, but he brought her hand up to his lips for a gentle kiss.

Brock tried to listen to the preacher's words as the service went on, but his mind kept turning. All he wanted was revenge. He wanted to find that piece of trash that was stupid enough to drive drunk and kill his son. Putting his arm against the arm rest of the pew, he balled his fist up and rested it on his forehead, squinting back the tears. No, he couldn't do this in front of everyone…especially his kids.

He briefly shook his head and inched forward in the pew to glance at his kids. Cheyenne held her mother's other hand, while holding a tissue up to her eyes. She was leaned up against her husband for support, sniffing quietly. Jake sat next to Van, looking intently at his hands, more than likely, taking in every word the preacher was saying. Kyra held Brock's granddaughter in her lap at the end of the pew, holding the little girl's hands in hers, as she slept peacefully, unaware of the sadness surrounding her.

Something, she didn't know what, but something turned on a light in Brock's eyes for a moment and Reba felt it. Her eyes glanced from her fiancé to their granddaughter, back and forth. She knew what he needed. Poking Cheyenne, who tapped Jake, then Kyra who looked to her mother. Reba let go of Cheyenne's hand to motion for what she wanted.

Carefully placing the sleeping toddler in her fiancé's arms, Reba adoringly stared at Brock as she felt a tap on her wrist. It was Cheyenne handing her a tissue with a small smile. Tears were easing down her mother's face showing the mixed emotions. The small girl was almost Henry's age, and even though she was Brock's granddaughter, Elizabeth held the same innocence as Brock's son.

Reba blotted her cheeks with the tissue and place her hand on Brock's leg. They would get through this together, as a family.

"Amen." The preacher had finished his prayer and lifted his head to look at the congregation. "The family has requested a private burial service for tomorrow, so a dinner will be held by the ministry at the Hart household for immediate friends and family immediately following this service." He mumbled the location and his closing remarks and stepped down from the podium.

Reba let out a deep breath she didn't know she'd been holding. The kids were all starting to get up and accept condolences from their friends, but Brock still sat there with Elizabeth in his lap.

"Well, I guess we should head back to the house to let everyone in." She sat there looking at him. He was holding their granddaughter's hand and staring at her small fingers.

"Brock, honey?" He still didn't look up. Reba looked to her eldest, pleading for some help.

"Dad?" No response. Cheyenne sighed, and bent down a little to pick up her daughter. This jolted her father back to life.

"Huh?" He gripped the child tighter, not letting Cheyenne take her from him.

"It's time to go home, Brock." Reba put her hand on his shoulder and ran her hand through his thick hair.

"Oh." His tearful eyes looked around at his children and took in their sympathetic faces.

He spotted Barbara Jean as she walked up to the group. Reba and Brock had walked in just when the service was about to start, so they didn't get to speak to her. She had her arm in a sling, and a couple of bruises were visible on her face.

Cheyenne was the first to hug Barbara Jean, as the younger Hart clan made their way to her.

"Are you ok, Barbara Jean?" Kyra asked.

"I-I guess. I'm trying." Her eyes had lost the spark that everyone knew her by. She made eye contact with the kids and then her eyes met Reba's. They shared a sympathetic look, and one of understanding that only a mother would know.

Reba made the first bold move and left Brock's side to hug her friend. It was a long hug, but Reba could tell something didn't feel right. Barbara Jean was the first one to let go, and no emotions were shown on her bruised face. Reba was shocked, and before she could say something, BJ cut in.

"Should we get going? My brother came down for the funeral; he's already in the car." She sniffled and looked to the kids, ignoring the two engaged adults, of which she knew nothing of.

"Uhm, yeah, Barbara Jean. Cheyenne, you wanna get Elizabeth?" Van nudges his wife, who nodded and moved to her dad.

Brock looked up and held Elizabeth tighter. "Look, uh, why don't you guys go ahead? I just need-m-more time okay?" He glanced down at his granddaughter and then towards the casket.

"Okay, Dad. If you're sure…we'll meet you at home. Here, let me take her." Cheyenne made the move to scoop up her daughter.

"Actually, do you mind if I keep her for awhile?" He saw the pensive look on his daughter's face. "We'll be fine, okay? I'll call one of you guys to come back and get us."

Before Cheyenne could respond, Reba immediately went over to her fiancé and bent down so that she was eye-level with him.

"Brock, are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Her hand grasped his free one. His eyes met hers and the world around them was non-existent. Both of their worlds had been rocked, but Brock looked like he was shutting down.

"I need to do this by myself. Okay?" A tear formed in the corner of his eye but he blinked it away.

"If you're sure…" Seeing him nod, she shook her head. "Okay, just call me when you and Elizabeth need a ride home." She was about to get up and join the others standing behind her, but Brock tugged her hand and squeezed it tighter. He noticed her teary eyes and tired but beautiful face hold his gaze.

"Hey." She stopped moving. He moved forward with their granddaughter in his lap and kissed her tenderly on the lips. It was quick, but he didn't care that everyone in his family was watching.

"I love you." Reba nodded and whispered the same words to him against his lips. She gained as much strength as she could and turned to her family.

"Ready to go?" They all nodded slowly, still entranced by their parents affection for each other.

"Barbara Jean, I'll ride with you, okay?" Kyra saw Barbara Jean's subtle reaction of hurt when her parents shared their moment. She missed her step-mother, and felt like she needed more people there for her, especially now.

"Okay." She took her eyes off of Brock and gave a small smile to Kyra. She eased over to the casket and muttered some words. After a minute, Kyra came up and took her hand. Tears slid down the mother's face as her step daughter lead her outside to the car.

"Come on guys. Let's leave your father and Elizabeth alone." Her kids went out ahead of her, each stopping by the solemn casket to say their goodbyes. Reba was last in line. She didn't know what to do. She loved the little boy, because he was sweet and innocent; she wished he was her own, event though his conception broke up her marriage. Of course, it wasn't his fault. But the future that her and Brock could've had...sharing their new grandchild together, their kids growing up...

The redhead shook the thoughts away and focused on her fiance's son.

"God, I know you're already taking care of little Henry now, but please take care of my Brock and my kids. They're all I've got." Her head was down and tears were falling freely. She felt a hand on her shoulder. A strong hand and then a tiny one sat down right beside it. Her head whipped up, mascara running down her cheeks.

"I'm here, sweetie. We're both here." Brock's soothing voice rang through her ears. He moved beside her, holding Elizabeth in his left arm, up against his shoulder.

Reba broke down in his arms. Brock held her in his right arm and kissed the top of her head.

"Hey, hey it's okay..." He calmed her and she looked up at him, drying her tears.

"I'm-su-supposed to be the one telling you that." Her voice broke as she focused on steadying herself. She didn't want to scare her granddaughter.

"You already have. It's my turn. We're here for each other...That's how this thing works, okay?" He was rubbing her shoulder.

"You're right..." Reba's hand went up to tickle the young toddler, and she giggled and buried her head in Brock's shoulder. They both smiled for a moment.

"Okay, I'll leave you two alone." She patted his shoulder and turned to go.

"Thanks honey." He watched the love of his life walk out of the funeral home, and suddenly the building seemed so empty. Except for his little granddaughter. She smiled at him, and he smiled sadly. He turned to his son in the casket and then turned to sit down. His eyes burned a hole in that casket, but he needed to be here...he just couldn't leave...

**TBC**

_Okay, that was an awkward place to end it but I couldn't find a great place to end this chapter._

_So, tell me what you think._

_Up next: Reactions from the whole family..._

"But Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven."-Matthew 19:14


	17. Chapter 17 Dark Horse

**Chapter 17-Dark Horse**

**Sorry for the delay, and THANK YOU to my couple of reviewers. Everyone else: REVIEW. Common courtesy folks :)**

_Previously:_

"_Okay, I'll leave you two alone." She patted his shoulder and turned to go._

"_Thanks honey." He watched the love of his life walk out of the funeral home, and suddenly the building seemed so empty. Except for his little granddaughter. She smiled at him, and he smiled sadly. He turned to his son in the casket and then turned to sit down. His eyes burned a hole in that casket, but he needed to be__here...he just couldn't leave..._

Members from her church filled the large house as Reba passed through the crowds of sympathetic people, receiving gentle touches on the shoulder and "I'm so sorry's." She would nod and give her appreciation to each acquaintance, sadly wishing she had her fiancé on her arm.

Finally making it to the other end of the living room, she sat down in a wooden chair, taking survey of the large crowd. They were mostly chatting quietly, some even smiling, blissfully unaware of the pain the Hart family was facing. She found her youngest two sitting next to Barbara Jean on the couch, who was talking to one of the couples from church. Van and Cheyenne were in a deep conversation with Reverend Parks. Reba took a long sip of her wine and looked at the bare glass. That was her third one.

Sighing, she sat the empty glass down on the table behind her and picked up her phone. She unlocked her phone and found that there were no new messages. It had been over three hours since they left Brock and Elizabeth at the funeral home. Reba wouldn't worry so much if it was just her fiancé by himself, but he had their granddaughter.

She tossed her phone back on the table and let out a frustrated sigh When she looked up, her eyes locked with Barbara Jean's. She attempted a small smile, and got up to go look out of the window. She pulled the drapes back and looked several times in the driveway and down the street, just in case Brock had walked home with their granddaughter. Nothing.

"Dammit Brock, don't do this to me," The redhead whispered to herself.

"Trouble with Dr. Stingy?" The voice made the redhead clench the drapes.

"No, Barbara Jean. Just..-thought I heard a noise outside." Okay, sure. Barbara Jean wasn't Reba's favorite person, but the woman had just lost a son. She was trying to show her a little compassion.

"Sure. Of course you did. Wouldn't want to tarnish your boyfriend's reputation now, would ya?" BJ leaned forward, with her arm still in the sling.

"Barbara Jean...don't. do. this." Reba's head was tilted down, but her eyes were cast up at the blonde who was in a bitter pain and wanted to take it out on the easiest target.

"Mom! Heyyy, Mom." Cheyenne broke from the conversation with her husband and the Reverend when she saw her mother's head dip down.

"Hey, honey," Reba pulled her hand from the drapes and gripped her daughter's arm. "What's up?"

"Oh, ah, um, the guy-in the ahm, kitchen. Yeah, he uhm, wanted to know where you kept the extra bottles of wine. He said they were almost out." Cheyenne nodded her head emphatically, darting her eyes between both women.

"Oh, I'll go show him. Thanks, Cheyenne." Reba hung her head down as she passed by Barbara Jean.

Cheyenne was torn. Barbara Jean was her ex-step mother. But of course, she was on her mom's side in whatever these two were arguing about. So, she tried to stay neutral.

"Hey, BJ, did you get to talk to Reverend Parks?"

"He's here?" Her head snapped up at the mention of his name, but then calmed down being reminded of her son and why they were here.

"Yeah, come on."

Reba watched as the last person filed out of the kitchen into the crowded living room. A death in the family was one thing, but being cornered by Barbara Jean as the other woman was another. She pulled a chair over to the counter by the refrigerator and eased her heels off. She spotted the almost full bottle of whiskey and smirked as she quickly climbed down and returned the chair back to its spot.

Checking around the corner, she poured a shot and downed it, wincing a little from the burn. It had been a week since her last go round with whiskey. The next shot, however, went down smooth and as the redhead closed her eyes. As she opened them, tears were clouding her vision, but not enough to see her middle child standing in the entryway, arms folded and harsh stare on her face.

"Mom, what are you doing in here?"

"Oh, ah, your sister said they needed more wine." Reba quickly put the shot glass down on the table and slowly moved away from it.

"Really?" Kyra stepped closer to her mother, showing concern.

"Yes, really. They didn't know where I kept the spare bottles." Just as Reba was starting to get nervous that her youngest daughter would bust her, Cheyenne and Van came bursting into the kitchen.

"I told you not to get that much food on your plate, Van!" She was scrubbing Van's shirt with a dry napkin. They both looked up and saw Kyra and Reba standing next to a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. Cheyenne dropped her hands from her husband's shirt and looked at her mother who looked away, then at her sister who nodded.

Cheyenne looked to Van, who immediately knew what she wanted.

"Look, why don't I go tell everyone to go. It's been a long day...they'll understand." He slowly backed out of the kitchen.

"Van! No, you don't have to-" Reba moved to stop her son-in-law, but apparently that last shot was more powerful than she thought, because her legs had turned to jello. Kyra grabbed her mother's arms, and Cheyenne helped her to a chair at the kitchen table.

"Woo...sorry guys, I don't know what happened there. I guess just too many emotions for one day." She put her head down in her hands and leaned over the table, ignoring the whiskey bottle.

"Or too many shots for one day." Kyra mumbled under her breath. Cheyenne shot a look to her sister. Reba's head darted up.

"What was that young lady?" Reba spat out, not ready to defend herself to a teenager.

"How much have you had today, Mom?" Cheyenne jumped in for her sister.

"What are you two talking about?" Feigning innocence was her path for this one.

"Drinks, Mom. I saw you take a shot of whiskey when I came in here. I know there's more you're not telling us." Kyra pushed her face in her mom's.

"Look, I just had two shots, okay? It's not like I'm an alcoholic!" She put her hands up in the air, trying to make light of it.

"Oh, and what about that empty wine glass in the living room? I know I saw you down at least three," She bent down and covered her hand over her mother's on the table. Reba, once again hung her head. Come on Mom, what's going on? You were doing so well this past week."

"Cheyenne, you don't get it, okay? I just-I'll be fine." She spoke slowly, trying to convince herself.

"What, what the hell don't I get? You've got Dad back, and he needs you to get through this! Sober! That's it! You-you just put all this aside and you help him!" She was pacing now, confused as to why her mother couldn't just be strong. She'd never seen Reba like this before her Dad came back and screwed with her mother's heart.

Reba jumped up and stood behind the counter facing her eldest daughter on the other side.

"Dammit, Cheyenne! I'm the other woman! Don't you remember the hell this family has been through?!" Reba paused, thanking the Good Lord that the window between the kitchen and living room was closed so her family didn't hear her. She lowered her voice. "I'm Barbara Jean! I am the reason she and Henry left Brock. I am the reason Henry was in that car. And. I...am the reason that Henry died." Cheyenne was too stunned to say anything. Kyra had her mouth open over at the table. Reba felt her blood pressure rising. Calmly, she placed her hands onto the counter.

"Look, I love your father. I want to marry him, and I don't regret anything we've done. But that woman in there is rubbing my nose in the hell I've caused her these past few months by breaking up her marriage and losing her son. So, forgive me if I need a drink or two to get through this day from hell." Reba's voice is condescending and her eyes are narrowed, darting back between her two daughters.

"Mom, I'm sorry you're going through this. You did not cause Henry's accident, okay? It's not your fault." Cheyenne tried to reach her mother.

"And you're not alone in this, okay? You've got us to lean on, Mom. And you've got Dad...he loves you more than anything." Kyra joined her sister at the counter.

"I know I've got this family...you don't know how thankful I am for that," She smiles at them, while tears slide down her face. "But, you two don't know the guilt that's inside of me. I broke up a marriage. I tore apart a family, and for that, I have to pay."

Van interrupts them, slowly creeping in from the living room where Barbara Jean now sat with Jake, who was playing video games. "Everything okay in here?"

"Yeah, honey. Mom's just-" Cheyenne didn't know how to finish.

"She's just had a rough day." Kyra jumped in and Van nodded.

"Have any of you guys heard from Mr. H?" Van asked, walking closer to the group.

"No, I haven't. And Elizabeth's probably getting hungry by now. Have you heard anything, Mom?" Cheyenne flinched and looked toward her mother.

"No, honey. He was supposed to call but I haven't..." She checked her pockets and looked on the counter, "Oh, my phone's in the living room." The family followed her into the other room.

Reba unlocked her phone to find no new messages, and looked up to her family with wide, worried eyes.

"Nothing?" Cheyenne asked and her mother shakes her head. Barbara Jean held a smug look on her face as she left Jake on the couch and butted into the conversation over by the door.

"Well, there Reba. Looks like your man got a better offer. What is that, twice now that he's left you all alone?" She made one of her big smile faces and threw her uninjured arm out to her side.

Reba gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes, ready for a comeback. As soon as she moved her eyes off of the big blonde and to her son on the couch and youngest daughter, she bit her tongue and spoke through her teeth.

"Kyra, Jake, upstairs now." This would get ugly and both children knew it, so they flew up the stairs. Once they were gone, Reba ignored Cheyenne's plea for civility.

"Okay, Barbara Jean. I've tried to be nice all damn day. But now you're just baiting me." Her laughter went away and her tone went serious. "You've lost your son, and for that I am truly sorry. I have no idea what kind of pain you are going through, and I couldn't even imagine it if I tried." Barbara Jean lowered her head, nodding and wiping away tears that fell.

"That being said, why are you taking it all out on me? You had your little fit months ago when you threw Brock's clothes out on MY yard. You come back here, and what do you expect, for Brock and I to not be speaking to each other? What do you want from me Barbara Jean?" Her arms are spread out, trying to get her point across.

"I want my best friend back! I come here and see you all over my husband and now you're engaged to the guy?! The Reba I know wouldn't let that cheating bastard anywhere near her!" BJ was yelling and Reba's mouth flew open as her eyes jumped to Van and Cheyenne.

"Which one of you told her about me and your father?" Her index finger was pointed at the two who were sitting on the arm of the couch, who had been delegated as mere observers. Neither one of them had a chance to answer, however, as Barbara Jean answered.

"Oh, calm down Peaches. That big rock on your finger told me." Reba closed her mouth and looked down at her left hand, sighing at the beautiful ring.

"Oh. Right. Listen, we didn't plan on..."

"Oh don't tell me you're pregnant? A little too far over the hill for that one aren't we, Red?" That was it. Cheyenne saw the blood boil in her mother and punched Van.

"Van, get her out of here. Now!" She hissed to her husband. Van was slow to react, so Reba had the opportunity to defend herself.

"Get out of my house now. I'm not going to stand here and listen to someone who's doneWAY worse than me throw the first stone. Don't come back until you've had a chance to find the old Barbara Jean." Reba's arm was thrust out in the direction of the door.

"Fine! Then you call me when the old non-cheating Reba comes back." She was about to storm to the door when it slammed shut...

**TBC...**

Thanks guys! This chapter was fun to write, but the ending was hard. There's a lot of emotions going on in this one, so it seemed like they were flip-flopping through emotions, but it was because of the different scenarios going on.

SO, REVIEW PLEASE! I appreciate the ones I do get, but they're getting less and less each chapter... :(

"O LORD my God, I called to you for help and you healed me."-Psalm 30:2


	18. Chapter 18 Love Hurts

**Chapter 18-Love Hurts**

_**Insert excuse for not writing/updating soon enough here* SORRY GUYS! BUT, I do have a good excuse: I GRADUATED COLLEGE!? YES! I graduated from the University of Alabama with a BA in Communications. ROLL TIDE!**_

**Story Title from Blue Jeans (RAC remix) by Lana Del Ray.**

_**NOW, on with the story.**_

_**Previously:**_

"_Get out of my house now. I'm not going to stand here and listen to someone who's done WAY worse than me throw the first stone. Don't come back until you've had a chance to find the old Barbara Jean." Reba's arm was thrust out in the direction of the door._

"_Fine! Then you call me when the old non-cheating Reba comes back." She was about to storm to the door when it slammed shut..._

"Hold it!" It was Van who closed the open door. He had tried to jump in when Cheyenne told him to, but Reba's harsh words had left him no time. "No one's going anywhere until you two talk this through. You've both behaved like children today in your own ways, and I know you're better than that."

Reba's arm slowly fell to her side. Her son-in-law was right. She lifted her head, moving her long bangs out of her eyes to see Barbara Jean staring at the floor.

"Now, I am going out to find my daughter and her grandfather, and when I get back, you two had _better_ be here...and alive," He pointed at the both of them. "Cheyenne..." He motioned for his wife to follow him. Her eyes darted from mother to ex-step-mother. She was afraid to leave them alone, but she needed to find her baby...plus, Van was scaring her.

"He means it, Mom," She said before pulling the door to.

Awkward silence engulfed the once-spacious living room. Reba decided to be the bigger person. She didn't want to lose Barbara Jean's friendship, as hard as that was to admit.

"Barbara Jean, I just-" Reba's thoughtful attempt at an apology was cut off. BJ put her hand up as Reba inched closer.

"Stop it right there, red. I don't intend to talk to you about Brock. Van just said we had to be alive when he came back, so all we have to do is not kill each other." She sat down on the couch and crossed her legs. Her face was tense, closing off her emotions from her former best friend.

Reba's eyebrows rose at her friend's attitude. This was worse than she thought. At least when Barbara Jean was yelling at her a few minutes ago, she was showing some kind of emotion. She strode slowly over to the chair next to Barbara Jean on the couch.

"Fine. We don't have to talk about him." She'd play another angle. "Why wasn't any of your family at the funeral?" BJ looked up, no emotion showing. No, Reba noticed bitterness on the blonde woman's face.

"Honestly, I told them not to. I kind of think they blame Brock for this whole mess." She spoke softly.

"Do you?" Reba countered. She knew she was breaking the 'no Brock' rule, but it had to be done.

"No." Barbara Jean shook her head. "My hus-...ex-husband did not cause any of this. I know he's a jerk sometimes, but he had no control over the moron in that car who chose to drink and drive."

Reba nodded, thankful that no blame was being placed on her fiancé. "He blames himself." She sighed and shook her head, but continued. "I've told him and told him that he couldn't have done anything to stop that car from hitting his son, but I know it's still in his head."

"Well, that's just Brock. Once he gets something on his mind, he never lets go of it." BJ said, bitterly. "You're living proof of that." It was muttered, but Reba still heard it.

Reba ignored Barbara Jean's sharp insinuation. "He thinks that it's because we got together. He said-he said that if it wasn't for his mistakes, you guys wouldn't have gotten in that car for Hen...his son to come visit." A tear slid down Reba's cheek full of makeup and stopped at her chin. She suddenly found her fingers very interesting as she couldn't make her eyes meet Barbara Jean's.

"Well...he does have a point." She slowly lifted her head to see what the reaction from the redhead would be.

Reba had her mouth open and her arm flew in the air as she bolted up from the chair. She was about to let Barbara Jean have it...but she bit her lip and turned to face the door, hands finding their way to her hips. She breathed deep a few times.

Barbara Jean could see she was fighting it. So, why not add more fuel to the fire? "Think about it, Reba. Brock didn't want _our_ family anymore, so he goes back to the one he threw out the window four years ago. And because of that, I took our son and left. I wasn't going to sit back and watch you two commit adultery right in front of my eyes!" She turns to Reba, who's back was still facing her.

At those words, Reba whipped around, the idea of holding back because of respect for BJ and her own high blood pressure completely erased from her mind.

"Well isn't _that_ the pot calling the kettle black!" She stepped closer to Barbara Jean, finger pointed towards her face. BJ grunted, and Reba became more infuriated. "Did you even consider what you were doing to _me_ every single time you came into _my_ house with my husband in your arms? Heck, I even had to sign a stupid form ending my 20 year marriage so you two could get married early! What isn't wrong with that?!" Reba screamed, feeling her head pulsate with each word she said. Her head was screaming at her to calm down, to walk out and ignore the big blonde in front of her. But her heart was begging her to stay, to defend her's and Brock's relationship.

"I was _trying_ to help you move on! I thought that you'd want the lying, cheating pig out of your house and out of your life!" BJ was now standing up, facing Reba.

"HA! Move on? Then why did you want me to sing at the weddin?! And why did you constantly bring him over here, hangin all over my husband?!" She was becoming more animated as the argument went on, pacing around in front of the door.

"He was your _ex-husband_! I thought that once you saw us together, you'd realize that he was moving on, and that you should too! Obviously, that didn't work, because you slowly sucked him right back in." She walked back over to the couch as if talking to herself.

"Oh yeah, Barbara Jean, that was my plan _all along:_ to reunite with the husband who did me wrong and rub it all in your face. I'm so evil that once you left with Henry I had to force the man who loves me out of my house and out of my life for what I thought would be forever. I couldn't eat, sleep or be a normal mother to my kids, because it _hurt_. Ok, it hurt so bad that...that I became an alcoholic. I drowned myself in booze because I couldn't have the man whom I've loved for almost thirty years. I failed myself and I failed my kids." Reba shocked herself with her admission. She could barely admit it to herself, so she hadn't even told her family. "So forgive me if my heartache of the last four years overshadows your pain over these past few months." Her arms are folded, and she's looking into Barbara Jean's eyes. BJ is stunned.

"I-I uh, I had no idea you were-...an alcoholic?" She couldn't believe it, so it came out as a question. Seeing her best friend so vulnerable made her pain look like an ice cream sundae. She thought Reba and Brock had been planning a wedding this whole time she'd been gone. Instead, they had been apart for most of the three months because of...Barbara Jean.

"I still have a hard time admitting it. In fact, you're the first person I've told. You know, today was the first day I had a drink in over a week." She sighed, giving up her handle on the situation. "I thought I had beat it. I had it under control! Since Brock came back, he gave me hope...and then I had to be strong. He was falling apart, and I just had to suck it up and be the strong one. But, he wasn't with me today and he wasn't himself. And, I just lost it!" Her words came out as a high-pitched wail, as she was choking out tears. Reba sat down on the arm of the chair, shaking with sobs, holding her head in her weak hands.

Meanwhile, Barbara Jean was frozen to her spot on the carpet. She was supposed to hate Reba. Hate her for taking her husband, for ripping apart their family, and for taking her little boy from her. But all she could see was a middle-aged woman who had her beautiful family torn away from her, had gone through hell watching her ex-husband with the new wife and son. Now she had him back, but he brought emotional baggage with him. Plus, she was now suffering with alcoholism. BJ couldn't just stand there. She slowly moved towards her best friend and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm-I'm sorry for all you've been through, Reba." Reba looked up at Barbara Jean, tears staining her face.

"Really?"

"Yes. I know it's hard to believe, but I don't want you to suffer. You were my best friend not too long ago, and this just fell in your lap."

"Thank you." Silence caused Reba's mind to turn. "Barbara Jean, do you wanna know why I didn't turn Brock down when he proposed last week?"

"I guess." She still wasn't in favor of hearing about their new relationship.

"Henry's... The accident made me realize that we don't have the time that we think we do. We aren't promised tomorrow, and Brock and I have already lost so much time. We missed our daughter's wedding, graduation and special moments with our granddaughter, not to mention Jake and Kyra growing up. And none of that is all your fault." She saw that she needed to finish up so BJ wouldn't lose it on her. "That's why I was so quick to allow Brock back into my life and accept his proposal. It had nothing to do with you. Trust me, Barbara Jean, I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have." After saying this, Reba felt lighter...or was that her dizziness coming back?

"Oh, Reba...I believe you!" Suddenly, the old Barbara Jean appeared for the first time in months. "And I forgive you! I wasn't too angry with you. Honestly, I just miss my son." Barbara Jean let go of Reba, after she squeezed the breath out of her.

"I know, Barbara Jean. I can't imagine the pain you're going through. It'll get better with time. But we're all-" All of a sudden, she felt a heaviness on her chest. Her face felt flushed and she just couldn't get enough air in her lungs. "We're, we're all...Oh gosh." Then, the pain in the shoulder hit her like a ton of bricks.

"Reba? Reba what's going on?" Barbara Jean was standing over Reba, who had fallen back in the chair. She noticed the strained look on her friend's face, the sweat pouring down her neck and Reba was clutching her arm.

"Blood-pressure. Can't...breathe." That was the best Reba could do. Barbara Jean got the hint, though and grabbed her cell phone from her purse on the coffee table.

"Ok, Reba hold on. I'll call 911!" Reba's eyes popped open.

"No-Brock." She gasped out.

"Reba, your fiancé isn't going to be much help." She rattled off the address to the operator and was assured that the ambulance was on the way. As soon as she was off the phone, Reba gathered up all of her strength and kicked BJ in the shin. She had to get the ditzy blonde's attention and she couldn't yell at her.

"Hey! What the heck was that for?! I called the ambulance, okay?" She noticed the tears coming from Reba's eyes, and turned serious. Barbara Jean sat down on the coffee table as Reba sat up as much as she could.

"Tell. Brock." She closed her eyes, and took a shallow breath. "Love him. And the kids." Her eyes were pleading with the woman who had once betrayed her. Suddenly, Barbara Jean felt a lump in her throat. No. she was not losing her best friend. She had just lost the person most special to her: Henry.

"Reba, don't-" Reba was serious. She cut her off.

"Listen to me!" She said it quickly. "I just-got him back...the kids. They need...to know-that I-I" BJ cut her off this time, with a finger in her face.

"No! You listen here, Reba. I am going to do everything in my power to get you through this. You've been through way too much to miss your kids graduation...and your wedding." Barbara Jean now had tears in her eyes. She received a small smile from her friend. The siren jolted them both and Reba made another grimace. "Hold on, Reba!" She remembered the kids upstairs.

"Kyra!" The teen was down the stairs in three seconds.

"What's going on? Why is there an ambulance outside?!" Kyra saw her mom in the chair, writhing in pain. "What'd you do to mom!" She was so confused. Barbara Jean wanted to comfort Kyra and her best friend at the same time, but she had to hold her emotions back.

"Look, Kyra, I did nothing to your mother and there's no time. I think your mom's having a heart attack." Her voice was hushed. "I need you to call your father and tell him to meet us at Memorial. And watch your brother, okay?" The paramedics were in the house now.

"No, I'm going," The stubborn redhead took after her mother, in that she wasn't giving up without a fight.

"Kyra, please. I need to be there for your mother and she needs you to stay here with Jake. I promise I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

"Fine." She folded her arms. Barbara Jean threw the house phone to the girl.

"Thank you. Now call your father! Have him meet us there, like now!" As they were wheeling Reba out, she grabbed Kyra's hand. Reba couldn't say anything because of the oxygen mask, but when her eyes found her daughter's, she didn't need to say anything. Barbara Jean hopped in the back with her friend. Reba finally took a deep breath, closed her eyes and drifted into an unknown world...

"Dad, wherever the hell you're at, you need to meet Mom at Memorial right now...she needs you." That was the most detailed she would get on a voicemail. Staring at the phone, she had no idea just how much her mother needed her father right now.

**TBC**

**BAM! What do ya think?! Wasn't that worth the wait? Let me know! Also, suggestions would be appreciated, too. THANKS!**

"**What this means is that those who become Christians become new persons. They are not the same anymore, for the old life is gone. A new life has begun!"-2 Corinthians 5:7**


	19. Chapter 19 Not Your Enemy

**Chapter 19-Not Your Enemy**

**This chapter is named from Jesse McCartney's song "Not Your Enemy" Go give it a listen. It's really beautiful.**

**I went back and forth with the forgiveness issue, and I finally decided on what I think is a good issue. LET ME KNOW WHAT Y'ALL THINK! Also, sorry for the delay. I've been in between jobs, and now have 2 part-time jobs!**

_Previously:_

"_Thank you. Now call your father! Have him meet us there, like now!" As they were wheeling Reba out, she grabbed Kyra's hand. Reba couldn't say anything because of the oxygen mask, but when her eyes found her daughter's, she didn't need to say anything. Barbara Jean hopped in the back with her friend. Reba finally took a deep breath, closed her eyes and drifted into an unknown world..._

"_Dad, wherever the hell you're at, you need to meet Mom at Memorial right now...she needs you." That was the most detailed she would get on a voicemail. Staring at the phone, she had no idea just how much her mother needed her father right now._

White surrounded her. All white. It was so bright. She felt light. The pain was gone. She was no longer angry. She felt like her cares had just vanished. But...her family wasn't with her. The kids, Barbara Jean...nor Brock were anywhere in sight. Suddenly, the angel appeared before her. Even though she had seen him before, his presence still amazed her.

"Reba..."

"What is it? What am I doing here?" She was confused. Where was Brock? Wasn't he supposed to be there?

"The Lord has commanded you to forgive your brothers and sisters." The angel did not answer her questions.

"But-but I...thought that I was the one who needed forgiven. I mean, I-I betrayed my best friend...neglected my kids?" When she listened to the words she was saying, it didn't even sound like herself.

"As proclaimed before, you have been forgiven by your Heavenly Father." An inner peace washed over Reba, as the angel continued. "Come, let us look at what's happening now on Earth." They floated to the edge of the whiteness. They were both up so high that no one could see them...if they were even real.

Suddenly, they were in the corner of a hospital emergency room. The place was empty, except for a couple of people near the front. Then, several paramedics rushed in with a stretcher. Red hair flooded the pillow, while a small bag attached to an oxygen mask covered her fragile face. Reba nor the angel made a sound while the flurry of activity unfolds in front of them.

"I need an IV, stat. Let's go, let's go!" This was yelled by the paramedic closest to the redhead.

"Injury? Give me a name" A Doctor came from the other side of the desk.

"No, myocardial infarction. Reba Hart, forty-five years old. We gave her oxygen in the ambulance with a direct injection of aspirin, but then she flatlined."

At this, the apparition of Reba gasped and put her hand to her mouth, shocked to hear that she was...dead? She looked back up at the angel, and he nodded.

The doctor interrupted her questions for the angel.

"She flatlined?! What the hell? Tell me that first! Okay, I need an IV of nitro and prep her for surgery now!" Nurses followed the doctor's orders as they wheeled her off into a trauma room.

"Where's her family?" The doctor sputtered out as a nurse handed him her chart and ambulance report. He studied it for several minutes as the paramedic answered his question. He knew she needed surgery, based on the paramedic's written report, but he had to check her chart to be sure she wasn't allergic to any meds.

"Don't know. Some crazy blonde tried to ride in the back with us but she threatened the driver, so I made her follow us. She was tailing the ambulance but I don't know..." Just as he finished, the big goofy blonde came bursting through the door, as Reba's eyes continued to bulge.

"Where-is-Reba?!" Barbara Jean was leaning over on the counter, gasping for air, as she'd had to park in East Africa. The doctor exchanged bewildered looks with the paramedic and answered her question.

"Ma'am, calm down. She's being prepped for surgery."

"Surgery?! What's going on? It's her heart right?" BJ was frantic, and trying recover her breathing at the same time, which wasn't working.

"What's your relation to her?" He had to ask...hospital policy.

"I'm her ex-husband's turned current husband's ex-wife." she rattled off casually. She threw in the current husband, so it might help her case if they thought Brock and Reba were married. Barbara Jean saw his perplexed look, and tried to save herself.

"Oh, don't worry, we're best friends now." Reba just rolled her eyes from the corner of the room. 

"Yeah, as convincing as that sounds...I can't discuss Reba's condition with anyone that's not a blood relative. I'm sorry." The doctor was sincere, but Barbara Jean wasn't letting him off the hook.

"Look here, _doctor_ fancy-pants, my son just died, my ex-husband is nowhere to be found and I might lose my best friend. Now, _kindly,_ tell me what's going on." The doctor was shocked. But he held his ground.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry for your loss. I can't imagine the heartache and pain you're feeling right now. But, all I can tell you is that she needs this surgery immediately. And if I don't get back there right now, not only could you could lose her, but her family could lose her. Okay?" He holds her arm, and she finally gets the picture. She simply nodded her head as the doctor walked away. He quickly turned around.

"Oh, if her husband or kids arrive, tell the nurse and she'll notify me." And with that, he disappeared behind the swinging double doors into the trauma room.

"What's going on?! Where is Brock, and am I really dying? And what about that forgiveness thing?" Reba wanted answers now, and she demanded from the mysterious angel that brought her here.

"Relax, Reba...your questions will be answered in time." Reba sighed and turned her attention back to the waiting room. Except now, they were in a dark park, about a mile from Reba's neighborhood. The sun had just set, so dusk had fallen upon a middle-aged man, who stood pushing his granddaughter in the small swing. The little girl had blue and red ice cream stains on her face, which had found it's way down to her elegant clothes. Brock's tie was loose around his neck and a couple of his shirt buttons were long ago unbuttoned.

Reba's heart melted at the sight of her soul mate, pushing their granddaughter on the swing. Her smile was wide, but her mind traveled back to a time where things were blissful, early on in their relationship, and then when they'd had their first child. And then her mind found it's way back to the ever-present question, _what if things had happened differently, what if there was no mistress, no fights, no child out of wedlock?_

Brock's voice interrupted her thoughts, "Is that too high?"

"No, Grandpa! Higher, higher!" Elizabeth squealed in delight. Brock chuckled, and complied with her request. Reba's hand went to her heart. She could see the ache in his eyes, but he was trying. He slowly moved the swing to a stop and swooped up his granddaughter in his arms, flying her like a plane to their spot at the picnic table.

"Oh, Elizabeth...did you have fun this afternoon?" Brock was smoothing out her curls, while she played with the hem of her dress.

"Yeah Grampa!"

"Good. I'm glad, sweetheart." His face contorted into a frown. At this point, Reba was growing frustrated as to why she was brought here. All this was doing was tearing her apart, because she wasn't there with them...and may not ever be.

Flipping her head back to the angel, she exclaimed, "What is this?! Why am I here?"

"Just listen...your life may depend on it." His arms were spread in the direction of the scene in front of them.

"Why are you so sad, Grandpa?" The three year old's voice made Reba's head turn. She saw her fiancé struggle with the little girls convoluted question.

"Well, sweetie, I lost my son, and today I had to say goodbye to him. And it just made me really sad because I won't get to see him until I get to Heaven."

"I'm sorry. I lost my doll once, but mommy said it was because I didn't take care of her or keep up with her. Is that why you lost Henry?" The redhead's former pain-free circumstance had changed, as she clasped her eyes together and a tear rolled down her cheek. She opened them just in time to see Brock hug Elizabeth close.

"Oh, honey...I lost Henry for a lot of reasons. You see, it's not as simple as you losing your doll. I made a lot of selfish decisions, and that cost me my son. I wasn't there for him, and now my whole family has to suffer." He sighed and looked at the girl. She wiped a tear from his face.

"Thank you."

"What did you do wrong?" She had another question that Brock answered quickly this time.

"Well, I know the main thing I did wrong, I can't ever take back. I hurt your Grandma Reba, very badly a few years ago." Elizabeth stopped him.

"What did you do to Grandma?! Did she get a boo-boo like when I fell off my tricycle?"

"No, honey, I hurt her feelings." The little girl calmed down a bit. "This whole mess could've been solved if I would've just listened and respected your Grandmother a little more. You see, Grandpa met Barbara Jean...and then, we...decided to have Henry." He paused for a minute, intensely studying the ground, not really paying much attention to the fact that much of what he was saying was going over Elizabeth's head.

"Maybe if I'd stopped being a jack-" He turned to his granddaughter, who was smiling at him. He let her down and told her to go play on the slide.

"Gah, if I'd just had my shit together, Reba and I could've made it! We could've had our middle, raised our kids the right way...and maybe have another baby. I could've just told her I wasn't sure that Henry was mine before I married Barbara Jean. If I'd just told her the truth...maybe..." Reba gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth, tears now flowing freely.

She couldn't believe all the guilt he was still carrying around. He didn't know if Henry was his when BJ was pregnant? How could he keep something like that from her? She didn't know he wanted to have another baby with her. Her hand subconsciously moved to her stomach, the ache growing inside of her. It killed her to know he wanted what she had wanted too. She watched his head sink further into his hands, and they went to rake through his long hair.

As her eyes darted over to their granddaughter, it all vanished. She was in an aura of white. All white everything. She spun around to face the angel.

"You have heard what was needed to be heard. God has given us the power to make our own choices. Therefore, you will make your own choice." The angel started to disappear. Reba panicked.

"Wait! What will I have to choose?!" She screamed, not fully grasping his instructions.

"Do not fear. For when the time comes, your choice will become clear." He was gone. And she suddenly saw black. And felt pain...lots of it.

"Start that IV up again." Some male voice said in the background. Where was she? And why couldn't she open her eyes?

"Got it, Doctor!" Doctor? Oh yeah, she remembered seeing herself being wheeled into the hospital for surgery after her heart attack. Heart attack?!

Her monitors started beeping, reflecting her rising pulse. The nurse's eyes darted up to the machine and she quickly jumped over to the cart, retrieving a needle.

"What's going on? Did she flatline again?!" The doctor had come back into the post-op room, upon hearing the machines.

_Flatline? Again? Lord, what the hell had happened?_

"No, just a blood pressure spike. I'm injecting a mild sedative now." _Sedative...great, just what I need. Now I won't be able to tell Brock I..._She was out like a light.

**TBC...**

**Okay, so give me your ideas for the story IN A REVIEW...I could use some of those reviews...And let me know what you think!**

"I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not yet ready for it. Indeed, you are still not ready. You are still worldly. For since there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not worldly? Are you not acting like mere humans?-1 Corinthians 3:2-3


	20. Chapter 20 I'll Follow You

**Chapter 20- I'll Follow You**

**Quick update right? That deserves some reviews! I had SO much fun writing this chapter. AND this is the LONGEST chapter I've written for this story.**

**Chapter title from the song "I'll Follow You" by Shinedown**

_I'll follow you down to where forever lies__  
><em>_Without a doubt I'm on your side__  
><em>_There's nowhere else that I would rather be__  
><em>_I'm not about to compromise, give you up to say goodbye__  
><em>_I'll guide you through the deep__  
><em>_I'll keep you close to me__  
><em>

_If I could find assurance to leave you behind__  
><em>_I know my better half would fade__  
><em>_I'll follow you down_

"Dammit Barbara Jean, stop taking pictures! She's not even awake!" The forty five year old redhead heard her fiancé's voice as plain as day.

"Shut up, Brock. I could lose my best friend, okay? I think I deserve all the pictures I want!" BJ, however, took one more picture and flopped back down in the small chair in the tiny hospital room.

"Do whatever the hell you want, just be quiet and leave me alone."

Brock was pissed. He had finally checked his voicemail, and received Kyra's message. Quickly calling Van, who knew nothing of the situation, he made plans to drop young Elizabeth off with him. He picked up Cheyenne on his mad dash to the hospital. She was currently tracking down some coffee for the three of them.

Meanwhile, they hadn't heard anything from the doctor. The nurse had just told them that Reba was stable, for now, and she would be asleep for quite awhile from the anesthesia. In fact, she only told Cheyenne because she was Reba's daughter. When Brock was told he couldn't know his fiancé's condition, he cursed and wished him and Reba were already married...that would solve most of their problems. Barbara Jean's voice brought him out of his mess of thoughts.

"Is it too much to ask to just be civil? I mean, we did just lose our son." Barbara Jean was picking at the neutral nail polish, avoiding Brock's harsh glance. He sighed, and bent his head down as his hands ran through his hair for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. He started talking, not even lifting up his head.

"Barbara Jean, I'm sorry, okay. Losing Henry is killing me, and now I could lose my fiancé, because I was too busy assing off and being selfish. I could've been there for her, but I blew it for the second time!" He threw his hands up in the air as BJ stared at him, taking in his frustration.

"Brock, it's not your fault. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine. We were fighting, and in each others faces. I knew about her high blood pressure, and I pushed her too far." Her expression was stoic and unchanging.

"You can't blame yourself. You had no way of knowing she would-you know, end up here, like this. It was out of our control..." He said slowly, remembering that he had heard those words from his best friend just one week ago. He finally understood them, as he was telling them to his ex-wife, of all people. "God was the one in control. He had a reason, and He was in control. We couldn't do anything." He kept repeating the words Reba had told him, and then suddenly, he started laughing. Right there in room 243 in the cardiac unit, he burst into a fit of chuckles.

"What is wrong with you? Reba is lying in the hospital bed, and you're laughing about how she got there?!" She was looking at him like he had two heads.

"No! I'm laughing because Reba had told me the same thing last week, and only now is it really making sense to me. Oh, God she was right!" He stopped laughing long enough to answer her and catch his breath.

"You know, I need some air. I'll go call Kyra." Barbara Jean stood up and walked past her delusional ex-husband into the hall. She brushed by Cheyenne as she quickly took her coffee and made her way to the elevator. Cheyenne raised her eyebrows and took the chair next to her father, who grabbed his coffee and blew on it slowly.

"Thanks, honey." He needed that coffee. The day was starting to catch up with him.

" 's up with her?"

"Oh, who knows. I stopped trying to figure her out months ago." Brock shook his head and focused his attention back to Reba.

"Any news?" Her tone was hopeful.

"No, the stupid doctor hasn't been back in yet. I think he's still in surgery." Brock pulled the tie from his neck. It was hanging loosely. He ran his long fingers over the silk, black tie, remembering how Reba had done the same thing just this morning.

"How about you? How are you holdin' up?" Her hand reaches out to touch the once strong man's shoulder. She saw him try to toughen up out of habit.

"Oh, I'm fine." He took a long sip of his coffee, reveling in the strong taste.

"Really? After all you've been through today, say nothing of these past few months, you're fine?" Her face showed the expression of 'don't try that bull with me.'

"Yeah, I guess." He stared at the ground, unable to face his daughter.

"You know, dad, it's okay to shed the tough guy image. You've been through hell, to put it lightly. I mean, you finally got mom back, lost her, lost your _son_, got mom back again, and now she's here, in the hospital. It's understandable that you may not have it all together. But, we're all here for you, dad. You just have to let us in." Brock stared in awe at his daughter. It was astounding how much she sounded like her beautiful mother.

"When did you grow up, huh?" Brock flashed a grin at his eldest daughter. She had his looks, but her mother's heart and feistiness.

"Oh, I don't know. Somewhere between getting pregnant and getting married." She rolled her eyes and he chuckled.

"No, really. Honey, I'm proud of you. You've grown into a beautiful woman and most of that is your

mother's doing. I regret not being there for you when you needed me. I just wish-" He gritted his teeth,

realizing he had hurt more than just his ex-wives. Cheyenne interrupted him.

"Dad. It's okay, really. I've forgiven you. You're here for mom and our family, and that's all that matters now." Her hand was on his shoulder and he pulled her in for a hug while they were still sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chairs. Neither one of them noticed the redhead flutter her eyes and drop a tear down her cheek.

Reba had heard everything from when Barbara Jean was taking pictures until Cheyenne forgave her father. This is what Reba had wanted all along...she just couldn't find the strength to wake up and tell them.

Cheyenne pulled back and smiled sweetly at her father.

"I'm gonna go find Barbara Jean. She seemed a little off when she left."

"Okay, honey. Thanks." She kissed her father's head and he stood up to stretch his tired muscles. It had been over a week since his last trip to the gym, and it was really starting to take a toll on his aged body. His hands clasped together once they ran through his long hair, and rested behind his neck. His head moved down to the fragile body in the pale hospital bed. He furrowed his brow, as he noticed her hair had lost its red spark. Sighing, Brock moved to the small chair on the left side of her bed and gently picked up the beautiful woman's hand. He kissed it, while his eyes squinted together.

Brock took his other hand and wrapped it around hers. He looked at her, and realized her cheek was wet.

"Hey, Red. I don't know if you can hear me or not...but I love you." He saw her lips twitch, and that made him smile. "I thought so. You know, you really scared the hell outta me tonight. When I got that call...I thought-I thought I had lo-...lost you. For good. And I don't _ever_ want to have that feeling again. We've been through too much to lose it all." He looks down at her hand, and twists her engagement ring around. He should've never put her in a position to take it off in the first place.

"And that's why, when we get you out of here, we're gonna plan our wedding. All of our kids will be there, and it will be perfect. And from then on, I can promise you that I will _never_ leave your side ever again." He searches her face for some kind of reaction but gets nothing. He sighs loudly, and makes a bold move. He kisses her straight on the lips, just missing her touch and being close to her.

To his surprise, her lips violently attach themselves to his. After the shock of it, he relaxed and moved his hand to brush her face. She felt so amazing. After twenty five years, she still lit a fire under the forty eight year old man. He felt her tongue slide into his mouth and he grinned against her. _Oh yeah, she's back._

He heard the heart monitors beep louder, and he knew he had to stop before this got out of hand for the both of them. He leaned back easily, slowly kissing her forehead and noticed her lips took a second to withdraw from his. Sitting down, he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Brock held onto her hand and continued to stare at his fiancé.

Reba broke into a full on smile, for the first time in a long time. She slowly opened her eyes, and found Brock's intent, hopeful stare.

"That's one hell of a way to wake up after a heart attack." Her voice was raspy, and her throat was so dry, but Brock couldn't have thought she sounded any more perfect.

"Hey, I was only hoping for that kind of reaction." He chuckled a bit.

"What, ya wanna give me another spell?" She was only joking, but the look on his face told her it wasn't a smart move. "Hey, Brock...it's okay. I'm here to stay. You don't have to be scared...it's me and you, okay? So stop being the tough guy." Her hand was rubbing his hand, trying to convince him she wasn't going anywhere.

"You know, our daughter just said the same thing."

"I know...I heard." Her grin was spread wide across her face, as she reveled in the shock that was evident on his features. "Honey, she's right. We're all a family, and we all break down at times. It's only natural to not be Mr. Strong all the time...although it is one of your best qualities." Reba admitted, holding his hand. "And an incredibly sexy one, at that." Her flirtatious words lingered on her lips. She looked up slowly, with a newly found spark in her eye.

"Oh, is that so, Mrs. Hart?" He loved saying 'Mrs.' in front her name, even though it wasn't technically legal, yet.

"Well, Mr. Hart, I'd say it is." Reba's smirk found its way on her face, while she inched closer to her fiancé, not paying a bit of attention to the beeping heart monitors signaling a raise in heart rate in the background.

"And, what-uh, what would you do to show me how sexy that quality is?" He found his lips were dry, so he licked them, suddenly flashing his eyes over to the rising, ever-present heart monitor. Her hand moved quickly to his chin, grabbing it and forcing him to look into her eyes.

"Hey, why don't you let _me_ _show_ you? Ignore those damn machines." Brock shook his head. It was like a switch had flipped in his fiancé. He wasn't complaining, but shouldn't she be taking it easy after her surgery from a heart attack?

"But, sweetheart-" Her lips cut him off. Brock's eyebrows were raised, but he didn't have time to think before her tongue slid into his mouth for the second time in less than five minutes. All he could think about was this gorgeous woman in front of him. Even though he had seen her that morning, he missed her taste, her smell...everything. Brock thought she was gone from him, but now he had her.

With that thought, he shoved himself almost on top of her, as her hand was still gripped tight on his chin. It quickly moved, however, to his thick head of hair. Oh, that hair. She found it his most attractive feature, besides his smile. Brock's hand found it's way to her back, while the other one was engulfed in her thick red hair. How he had missed that strawberry scented mess of locks.

Reba's hand lifted it's way under Brock's shirt and up his back while his hands had a mind of their own when they found her backside. She moaned, and that sent the heart monitors into another fit. Neither of the crazed adults noticed, as they were too consumed with each other. However, the doctor down the hall happened to be checking the monitors at the nurses station. He furrowed his brows, and jogged to the room at the end of the hall.

The door burst open, without being knocked upon, and both adults breathlessly looked toward the door. Brock was a deep shade of red, matching the redhead's face in the hospital bed. The doctor was younger than the two adults in the room, so he chuckled a bit, before regaining his composure. He turned around to close the door so the couple could readjust.

"You know, I'm just relieved that she wasn't flatlining again."

"Sorry doctor, we-uh, got carried away." She said the last part through gritted teeth at Brock, with raised eyebrows. _How could you let it go that far, you mo-ron?!_

"Yeah, I should've payed more attention to those monitors over there." He addressed the doctor, but was looking at her. _Me? What about you and your tongue?! _His look conveyed his thoughts.

"It's fine, you two...believe me, my wife and I are worse." He giggled, remembering recent times. The doctor turned back to them and put on a serious face. "However, for her case, I would be a little more careful on how intimate you get. If I'd walked in here any later, there could have been serious problems."

That got Brock's attention. He sat up straight in his chair and turned to face the young doctor. "What kind of problems?" Reba was curious, too, but she loved how much Brock seemed to care. This was definitely a changed man.

"Well, it's okay to engage in some sort of physical activity, like hugging and kissing, but once things start escalating, the heart gets ahead of itself and can't ever catch up. So, essentially we end up right where we started." He explained in simple terms.

"Really? You mean a, heart attack...again?" He was scared he could lose her again.

"For starters, yes. But since she's just had this one, it could end up with more dramatic effects."

"What kind?" He shifted his eyes from the doctor to Reba. She showed no emotion, but he knew she was scared.

"Well, let's just say you don't need to have any sexual activity for the next six weeks." The doctor didn't want to frighten the couple any more than needed.

"Oh..um, okay. Thank you doctor," Reba nervously commented. She didn't want to add to the awkwardness by telling him they hadn't...been together, since before their divorce over four years ago. It's not like they were ashamed of it. It's just that they kind of had an unspoken agreement to wait until they were remarried. And they had almost ruined that agreement a few minutes ago in a _hospital bed. _That was not how Reba wanted it to be. _At all._

The doctor continued to give Reba some rules and information about how she should care for herself at home. Reba would take off from work for four weeks, and be put on a heathy diet. When the doctor asked if someone would be there constantly to take care of her, and Brock immediately answered that he would be there, no matter what.

Reba smiled, thrilled that she didn't have to ask him. Technically, he was still living at his house, but most of his clothes were at Reba's. Some nights, he'd sleep in Cheyenne's old room, get dressed for work and cook Reba breakfast.

"Okay, great. You should be all set to leave in a couple of days. We've got you on some heavy ACE inhibitors, which should lower your blood pressure and lower the strain on your heart. I'll get your prescriptions to the nurse for later. Now, remember, if you feel stressed at any time, just take deep breaths and try to calm down. If you have to, just walk away from whatever it is that's stressing you out." Reba nodded, understanding that she now had a free pass to walk away from Barbara Jean whenever she wanted.

"I'll make sure she stays stress-free, Doctor." Brock chimed in, and Reba agreed.

"Alright, then, since that's all settled, I've got to go make my rounds. I'll leave you two alone." He turned to go, but whipped his head back in the door, as a thought occurred to him. "But, I'm always within earshot of those heart monitors." He winked and was out the door.

"What a punk." Brock snorted and turned to his fiancé. She had a serious look on her face.

"What?" Brock had no clue why she was suddenly so somber.

"Brock, we need to talk."

**TBC**

**WOW! What a fun chapter to write! I enjoyed writing the waking up scene! WHAT did you guys think? Write REVIEWS please!**

"_**Let me live forever in your sanctuary, safe beneath the shelter of your wings!" Psalm 61:4**_


End file.
